


Dimension Healing

by Emerys_Potter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Healer Harry Potter, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 10:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerys_Potter/pseuds/Emerys_Potter
Summary: After training to perfect his new role as a healer, Harry is inundated with dreams of Veil of Death until it is practically the only thing he can think about.  With his new obsession in mind Harry gives into the pressure and sneaks into the Ministry and walks through the veil and into another world.Instead of finding a peaceful world that had been spared the touch of Voldemort, Harry finds himself in a war torn world that is in desperate need of a healer.  Will Harry stay and help or try to return home?
Relationships: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody/Poppy Pomfrey, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 159
Kudos: 294





	1. Drastic Measures

Harry stood staring at the Veil of Death with a feeling of unease as images of Sirius’ death swirled through his mind. Even at the age of twenty Harry was still plagued by nightmares of his godfather’s death that still kept him up at night. For no matter how many times he was told it wasn’t his fault he knew better, for it had been him that led Sirius to his death. 

He watched in morbid fascination as the mist within the veil moved elegantly around its narrow stone prison, unable to suppress the shiver that ran over him as he thought about what he was about to do. Many people would consider his plan to be insane but to Harry it was the last resort. The war was over but the damage done to his friends and the Wizarding World at large was too great.

The war had ravaged the British magical community with both sides, the Order and Voldemort’s forces, taking massive losses. The magical population of Britain was a fraction of what it once was, and regardless of the number of buildings they repaired the feeling of loss was still rampant through every fake smile plastered on in public.

Like everyone else Harry had tried moving on. He’d gone back to Hogwarts and finished his education, gained a mastery and he’d even moved into Grimmauld Place but something always felt like it was missing. When he wasn’t having horrific flashbacks of the war, he’d dreamt of the Veil of Death and saw himself walking through it with his head held high and no hesitation. At first he passed it off as depression knowing from personal experience that the veil only promised death. However, the more he ignored it, the more the dreams persisted and the more of a push he felt.

That push turned into a compulsion to find out more about the Veil of Death and it wasn’t what he expected. It had taken him a while but he eventually found an ancient scroll that actually posited that the Veil didn’t kill but was a doorway to another world. From that day onwards Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the doorway and its possibilities; it haunted not only his dreams but his every thought.

Eventually after months he concocted a plan and he would walk through it no matter what. It was like something was pushing him to walk through it and he was tired of suppressing it. So there he was standing in front of the archway with his magically enhanced backpack over his shoulder and determination roaring in his eyes.

Realising that he wouldn’t be able to stay unnoticed within the Department of Mysteries forever, Harry rallied himself, closed his eyes and took a deep breath before stepping through the portal.

\--

Harry had only taken a few steps forward before stopping on the other side of the veil. It wasn’t until he felt a chilly breeze whip through his untameable hair that Harry finally, and very hesitantly, opened his eyes. Immediately Harry’s jaw swung open of its own accord effectively registering his shock. With nobody in recorded history having successfully survived a trip through the veil Harry was unsure what to expect, but he anticipated something - more. Despite the ominous feel to the gateway, the process of walking through the veil was rather akin to walking through a door into a dark room; no death – nothing. 

He wasn’t sure if he was in London or some foreign country but his immediate surroundings were rather obvious and didn’t require much deducing. He was standing before an old cemetery complete with wrought iron fence and unmanaged fauna that threatened to overcome the unkempt tombstones. Tearing himself away from the sad image of a nearby tombstone, covered in vines and weeds with a large crack along its centre, Harry took a steady breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“I…I did it.” Harry whispered in shock. “I did it!” 

Feeling an odd sense of relief and happiness flood his body, Harry couldn’t help the booming laugh that burst out of him. While he didn’t doubt his research he knew there was a chance that something could go wrong; something he’d been told by Hermione and Ron a lot over their adventures.

As Harry’s laughter died off to soft giggling his ears picked up whispered tones nearby, with this ingrained war reflexes pushing his actions Harry swiftly spun around to see a couple, muggle from their proper state of dress, standing off to the left behind him sharing suspicious glances at him. 

Knowing that he must look quite a sight wearing plain light blue wizarding robes and laughing like an idiot in a cemetery, Harry gave the pair a smile that felt more like a grimace before turning to his right and following the dirt road that ran in front of the lot. With his experience being in the spotlight, Harry expertly fought the temptation to turn around and see if they’re still watching him, instead choosing to put on a burst of speed.

Once he was certain that he was out of sight, Harry took a deep breath and took a seat on the side of the road to collect himself. He had no idea where he was with nothing but green countryside surrounding him, but as he watched the sun sinking below the horizon throwing beautiful reds and oranges over the sky, he found that he didn’t mind too much. 

Slowly lowering himself the rest of the way to the ground, feeling himself sink slightly into the soft grass, Harry stared up at the sky with a small smile. Looking back at his life, he always felt like he was always on the go either serving his horrible relatives or saving the wizarding world from destruction. However, that was all behind him now with no expectations to hold him down. Surviving the trip was an opportunity for him to get a life away from the attention of being ‘Harry Potter’. The idea of being free from the pressure of being the ‘saviour’ filled Harry with such excitement and joy that his smile stretched wider over his face.

However, before he could get himself a life he needed to find out if there was a magical world here, wherever here was, and find somewhere to live for a while. With a location in mind that would help both goals Harry once again carefully looked around, to make sure there were no muggles watching, before standing up and apparated away with a crack.

\--

Harry appeared in an alley opposite the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Sticking his head around the corner to scope out the street he was happy to see that it was practically deserted; the street only featured a stout blonde jogger waddling down the road covered in so much sweat it looked like he’d been swimming and an elderly couple walking down the opposite side hand in hand. Once both were out of sight, and he couldn’t see any other muggles around, Harry thanked his lucky stars and crossed the street before heading into the hidden magical inn.

In between wars in his home world the Leaky Cauldron was the hub for British magical beings, packed with all kinds of patrons and was filled with life and laughter as customers went about their day. However, this dimension wasn’t anything like that. 

Adjusting the strap on his bag Harry glanced around the inn. The dilapidated room had clearly seen better days with scorch marks on the floor, chunks blasted from the walls and the odd smell of blood that hung ominously in the air. Knowing he couldn’t stand in the entrance all day, Harry stepped into the inn where he quickly became pinned by four sets of eyes.

The only people in the pub were two men sitting against the back wall, their identities partially protected by their black hoods, whispering to each other as their beady eyes darted around with paranoid efficiency. There was a wizard sitting at the bar with graying hair and a permanent scowl wrapped up in thick maroon battle robes. Finally was the famous innkeeper, Tom, who was practically oozing distrust as his eyes bore into the back of Harry’s head. 

Feeling rather unwelcome Harry ignored the four and headed out into the courtyard beyond the inn and out into Diagon Alley. As the entrance way parted Harry had been hoping for something to remind him of how his world was before the second war, something positive or happy in the slightest; like the first time he’d experienced magic at eleven. Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed as this world kept up its depressing theme – this wasn’t the Diagon Alley he knew.

A deep sense of fear covered shoppers in the nearly deserted shopping district and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something wasn’t right here. He slowly moved down the street as two witches walked past him ensuring to keep their heads down and gave him a wide berth, as though he was carrying the plague. Looking around and moving hesitantly down the street Harry couldn’t help but notice that it wasn’t just the fear or lack of shoppers that was concerning him but the shops themselves. 

Numerous stores he passed were boarded up, he could practically feel the dangerous wards smothered over them as he passed, the cobbled street itself was damaged and even had a few crater sized holes in it every few yards. Not to mention that the few shops that were open were hardly welcoming. 

Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions had a sour looking dumpling of a wizard sitting out the front of the store, sharpening an axe with an unsettling amount of interest in his dead little eyes. The Magical Menagerie looked about half the size he was used to seeing but it was the few long splashes of red along the shop’s front door that deeply unsettled him.

Finally reaching his destination Harry sighed in relief as he took in the massive white bank. It was exactly as he remembered it. It was such an odd thing to feel relief about, that the goblin’s bank stood slightly lopsided as it always had, but he’d take what he could get. 

Harry had just reached the front of the bank from the street when the two goblin guards on either side of the doors jumped to attention and blocked his entry with massive spears. 

“Go away, Wizard. Your kind isn’t welcome here.” The one on the left spat tightening his grip on his weapon.

“What?” Harry asked perplexed. “All I wanted to do was open an account.”

“You’ve got five seconds to leave before we attack.” His short companion chimed in with a cruel smirk across his pasty face. “One…Two…”

Knowing that they weren’t going to be convinced, Harry held up his hands in surrender and slowly backed away from the bank. 

Harry swore under his breath. Before stepping through the veil he’d completely emptied all of his accounts and collected all of his possessions in his bag using powerful extension charms to help. Anything and everything he’d need to start a new life was strapped to his back and now that he couldn’t safely deposit it he was feeling a little exposed. 

Shuffling along the cobbled street his stomach let out a low rumble. Realising he’d not eaten anything in a while, Harry decided to head back to the Leaky Cauldron and to try and order something for breakfast. 

‘I need a new plan.’ Harry thought to himself as he strode up the semi familiar cobbled path towards the Leaky Cauldron. ‘I need to secure my backpack, maybe visit the bookstore to research this world’s history and find someone safe to live.’

Just as he was passing Slug & Jiggers Apothecary a loud explosion tore through Diagon Alley the force of which threw him to the ground and shattered windows along the street. Once it had passed Harry swiftly got up and looked behind him trying to suss out the situation. He couldn’t see any massive fires or smoke to alert him to the location of the explosion but as shrieks pierced the air he knew it couldn’t have been far away.

Suddenly a man ran past Harry, accidentally shoulder barging him as he went, before standing fast in the middle of the alley. Without warning he lifted his grey wand into the air and made a familiar gesture in the air that stimulated Harry into casting a silencing charm around himself. Unfortunately, he was a fraction of a second to late as the caterwauling charm activated expelling a scream that tore at every nerve ending in his body.

However, as his silencing charm fell over him he let out a sigh of relief. He hated that charm. The Deatheaters in his world had used that when they took over Hogsmeade, Hogwarts and the Ministry which made their year of searching for Horcruxes very challenging. 

Within seconds the few shops that weren’t boarded up quickly expelled people as they ran into the street and towards the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was a bit irritated that he couldn’t hear what they were screaming or what the man with the grey wand was shouting but it was worth the sacrifice as the caterwauling charm had been known to make people deaf; something that he couldn’t afford to have happen in an unknown and dangerous world.

It hadn’t taken long before Diagon Alley was deserted with shoppers and workers having been successfully evacuated within moments. Judging by the actions from the man with the gray wand Harry assumed he wasn’t with the attackers and was just responsible for the warning alarm. It was only once the alley was empty that Harry caught a proper look at the man who started the evacuation, feeling slightly surprised as he recognised the wonky nose and the grey hair as the unpleasant wizard he saw in the Leaky Cauldron earlier. 

‘Bodyguard?’ Harry thought to himself noting the usefulness of the man’s demeanour and broad shoulders in such a field that required intimidation and battle ready situations. 

With only the two of them left the man quickly approached, sending frustrated glances at him, before grabbing Harry’s forearm and starting to drag him back towards the Leaky Cauldron. Realising that the man was mumbling something under his breath, judging from the way his jaw kept moving about, Harry lifted the silencing charm.

“Stupid civilians…gonna get someone killed…”

Harry bristled at his heated words. He just opened his mouth to retort when screams filled the air again from further down the alley. 

While he wanted to be free from his past and tedious titles like hero and saviour he wouldn’t ignore someone’s screams; he hated the attention and danger that followed such things and wanted something more but he couldn’t change who he was. Electing to be a healer meant that he could still help people without having to be in the spot light and risking his own life again. Besides he’d taken an oath to help any he could and he wouldn’t dismiss it.

Noticing that they were nearly at the exit to alley, Harry quickly pulled his arm back from the older man.

“What the hell are you doing, fool?” The man spat spinning around and glaring at Harry. “You should’ve evacuated like everyone else and now you’re being difficult again cause I’m trying to save your life.”

“I have to go help.” Harry said turning back towards the alley only to be spun back around by a calloused hand.

“Civilians aren’t allowed to fight…you’d only get in our way anyway. So be a good little boy and get to safety in the Leaky Cauldron!”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man, his patronising attitude was really rubbing him the wrong way, as his hands tightened dangerously around his wand. When he took his healers oath he swore to help those in need and he wouldn’t let some blowhard get in his way.

“ _Somnium_.” Harry said flicking his wand at the man causing his grey eyes to flutter slightly before his legs gave out from under him and he fell down in a heap.

Knowing it could be dangerous to leave him under a sleeping charm during such a situation, Harry levitated his body to the side of the alley and placed a few shielding charms and notice-me-not spells around his sleeping form.

With his unwanted guard asleep, Harry took off sprinting down the alley as more shouting and screaming filled the air. He’d been delayed already because of that guy so he could only hope that nobody had died in the interim.

The screaming and shouts got louder and more desperate with each step he took down the cobbled street. He had just passed Gringotts when he could finally see the fighting up ahead. There were roughly fifteen people at the entrance to Knockturn Alley fighting viciously as the air lit up with a multitude of color as their deadly spells sped towards their enemies. While he couldn’t really recognise the fighters, it was more of a concern that he could recognise what some of them were wearing.

“Shit.” Harry muttered as he quickly placed a notice-me-not spell over himself.

‘Can’t catch a bloody break.’ He thought bitterly to himself as he watched Deatheaters duel expertly with vigorous use of dark magic. He wanted a break from war and here he was stuck in the middle of another one.

From what he could see the fight seemed to be between three groups; the Deatheaters versus those clad in maroon battle robes, like his sleeping friend, and those in green battle robes. Unfortunately, it looked like the Deatheaters were winning. While the red and green robes were greater in number they were far from the strongest group in the alley. 

Only two Deatheaters had gone down as their five fellows kept fighting using advanced duelling techniques and not holding back. The other side had at least ten unable to fight in various locations around the duelling area with fifteen fighters still engaging the Deatheaters, but Harry could tell it was a matter of time before they lost. They were sloppy and relied too much on their wand work, which wasn’t that impressive anyway, and completely ignored footwork or even dodging; he’d even witnessed one green robed wizard completely stuff up his aim and set his compatriot on fire.

However, it wasn’t the fighting that was his direct problem. It was how he was going to help so many people at once that all clearly needed some level of swift treatment. Seeing another two red robed fighters go down, Harry threw aside the notion of a well thought out plan and opted for a more instinctive strategic approach.

Seeing that the nearest fallen was only a few metres ahead of him, Harry pointed his wand at the man and focused.

“ _Corium.”_

Harry instantly saw the spells successful application when his target shimmered briefly like sunlight on water, a textbook response as his notice-me-not spell took hold. With the fighters occupied amongst themselves Harry cast a levitation spell and brought the now disillusioned fighter towards him. He instantly started panicking as he noticed blood continuously pouring out of the man leaving a bright red trail in his wake. Putting a burst of speed on the charm Harry quickly brought the man in front of him.

The man, who barely looked old enough to have finished Hogwarts, was unconscious with a massive gash on the side of his neck. Knowing he needed to fix that up first, Harry knelt down to the man and pointed his wand at the bloody injury.

 _“…vulnera sanentur…vulnera sanentur…vulnera sanentur…”_ Harry chanted moving his wand in a circle over the injury and watching closely as the neck wound started to close up. 

After the wound was finished healing Harry cast a diagnosis charm over his patient and was happy to see that, other than his blood and energy levels being a bit low, he was fine and was out of immediate danger. Normally Harry would administer a Blood-Replenishing Potion next but as a bright purple spell flew just over his right shoulder he knew he’d have to find cover first; people might not be able to target him, or his patient, while under a disillusionment charm but stray spell could be a problem.

Seeing a boarded up shop to his left Harry quickly waved his wand and checked the outside of any harmful spells. He sighed in relief when his spell responded negatively and assumed that the building was probably abandoned by its previous owner; who, unlike the other building owners in Diagon Alley hadn’t warded his building against intruders. Again with a half-assed plan in mind, and not bothering to thank his luck, Harry tightened his hand on his wand, got up and made a dash to the building. 

“ _Evanesco!”_ Harry said vanishing the door with a flick of his wrist. 

Once safely inside Harry immediately turned around and recast the levitation spell on his unconscious patient to bring him inside where he placed him gently down on the ground by the boarded up window at the front of the shop. 

Casting the lumos charm Harry quickly surveyed the shop and noted that other than an empty counter the room was completely bare. Feeling secure that the room would suffice for now as a safe haven for his patients Harry turned around to the front of the store with his wand in hand.

 _‘The room may be safe for now but I need to make sure that it stays safe. Protect the building and its occupants from unwanted guests.’_ Harry thought to himself as he raised his wand.

 _“Salvio Hexia…Repello Inimicum…Protego Maxima…Fianto Duri…Salvio Hexia…Repello Inimicum…Protego Maxima…Fianto Duri…”_ Harry chanted as he swirled his wand around the front of the store, a soft smile on his face as he fondly remembered a bushy haired witch teaching him such protections during the war.

A beam of silver magic shot out of his wand and slowly crept across the door and window, sparking with a bright blue light every time it touched a piece of wood or stray piece of glass. 

Once the spell was complete Harry didn’t give himself a moment to take a breath before he launched himself out of the shop turned Hospital Wing and into the battle once more. Harry groaned as he noticed even more people had joined the fight since he last looked, reinforcements from all three sides, and the collection of bodies lying around the space had doubled.

“Bloody hell…” Harry muttered in defeat as he started mentally taking note of just how much work lay ahead of him.

Without seeing many other options Harry started. Using the same method as he had with the first victim Harry started disillusioning fallen fighters and levitating them back into the shop. Harry knew that he could’ve save everyone but he wanted to try. By the time he’d collected seven fighters Harry returned to the safety of the store and got to work.

Not really having time to start transfiguring comfortable furniture as the injured required his immediate attention, not to mention they growing numbers of them back in the fight, Harry placed the seven he just rescued around the room. 

The first treatment he gave all of his patients was to be placed under a sleeping spell as he didn’t want them to suffer or awaken and distract him. Quickly Harry got to work diagnosing the new seven. The first four were covered in blood from an assortment of vicious curses, two of them had been the victims of organ banishing curses but it was the last one that Harry knew would need to be treated first.

Her heart-shaped face was ashen and covered in dark purple bruises, her left arm was nothing more than a stump and all of the bones in her chest were shattered. Whoever had attacked this woman hadn’t bothered going easy on her. While each of her injuries were bad Harry was more concerned with the blood starting to pool under her body; he hadn’t noticed it at first until he did the diagnosis charm but it seemed that her maroon robes were hiding more injuries from him.

Not wanting her to bleed out Harry recast his earlier healing spell, but this time over her entire body, as he got to work figuring out how to best treat her. Her blood loss could be fixed by a Blood Replenishing Potion which would in turn also fix her pasty complexion; something that he knew would be a similar and a repeating diagnosis for every fighter. Regrowing limbs was a painful and time consuming procedure but as the remains of her arm weren’t suffering from troubling curses it could be done. Unfortunately, her shattered ribs would have to be banished and regrown as they were too far gone for spell work. However, he was happy that while she would need to be monitored she would definitely survive.

Opening his bag Harry quickly withdrew three vials Blood-Replenishing Potion before banishing the bright red liquid into brunette’s system. Within seconds her complexion cleared and Harry cast a bone-mending charm on her ribs. Even though the ribs were too far gone and would need to be regrown, his spell healed them enough that she could breathe normally until he had the time to heal her properly. Standing up Harry smiled in contentment at the sleeping figure before him. 

**BANG!**

Harry flinched as the massive explosion shook his safe house causing dust to drift down from the rafters and the screams from outside to intensify. 

Forcing himself to focus Harry continued around the room, casting counter-curses, using what potions he had on hand and continually checking vitals until he was happy that they were all resting peacefully. Most of the patients would need follow up or long treatment plans but for now they were okay.

Standing up by the last patient Harry could feel how tired his body was after expelling so much magic in such a short amount of time. It was an annoying fact that healers had to take more care of their own states during healing as their field of expertise could drain them of energy and magic faster than an auror in a fight. 

Having heard the fighting still carrying on outside Harry knew that more people would need his help. He understood why healers were hesitant to run into a battle but he really wished that someone was helping him care for the wounded. Where were the healers of this world? Surely someone would’ve summoned one to help.

He’d just made it to the door of the store when a shadow feel over Diagon Alley and the glass of the shops iced over. As the fragments of Harry’s energy levels plummeted and his outlook turned bleak a scream echoed from the street outside. 

“Dementors!” A voice bellowed in obvious panic. “He sent the Dementors! **Run!** ”

Pushing away the depressing aura that was pushing away any positivity still clinging to him, Harry shoved his hand into the bag over his shoulder and rummaged around until he found a green potion. With no time to lose Harry down the Wiggenweld Potion and darted outside into the street.

Glancing around Harry paled as he saw that all the fighters had fled the street for safety and had left their injured fellows on the ground. What was more concerning was that covering over the scene was a swarm of at least twenty Dementors. Slowly the horde of swirling cloaks of death started descending on the scene and right for the unconscious forms littering the pavement. 

Without giving it a second thought Harry darted forward a few steps and cleared his mind. Harry quickly conjured up memories of his parents, Sirius, Ron and Hermione, the DA and Malfoy’s face when Hermione had punched him. 

As he tried to focus his eyes watched in panic as three Dementors pulled away from the pack and hovered mere inches from their first victims. 

Harry let the memories blanket him in warmth and fill him up before thrusting his wand forward, brandishing his wand like a knight would a sword, and shouted.

“ _Expecto Patronum!”_

White light filled the alley as Prongs burst into existence before him and galloped to the middle of the alley, where the injured lay, and started goring nearby Dementors with his antlers. Harry could hear the ear-wrenching screams of the unholy beings as Prongs charged and protected them but harry didn’t stop. Despite his effectiveness Harry knew that Prongs couldn’t keep fighting them forever, and as none of the fleeing fighters were helping him, he knew that they were alone in this fight. 

Harry held his wand tighter in his hand as he felt his strength start leaving him as he continued the spell, pouring more and more of his magic into it and strengthening the spell. He’d never continuously held the Patronus spell for so long, normally only requiring a simple cast, but Harry was pleased to see that his efforts weren’t in vain. With each second that went by Prongs grew stronger and started glowing brighter until silver light permeated every corner of the alley from the now white stag and kept the hovering Dementors above their heads at bay. 

Finally, after what felt like hours the Dementors gave up their attack and fled as Prongs charged at the dwindling dawdlers until the alley was safe once more. Harry quickly dropped his wand and fell to his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. He’d only managed to take a few grateful gasps of air when an angry voice rung out.

“Potter!”

Slowly Harry looked up from his place on the ground to see a tall angry wizard striding towards him with his wand out. Even in his exhausted state Harry was able to identify this wizard as not many carried a large black cane and had hair so blonde it was practically white.

Knowing that in this world Lucius Malfoy would unlikely be an ally Harry lifted his wand, ignoring the aching in his arm as it protested his movement, and readied himself for a duel. However, before Lucius was close enough or had thought to start casting, probably thinking him an easy target in his current state, the sound of galloping filled the tense air. Looking around Harry saw that Prongs hadn’t disappeared yet and was now charging forward with its silvery eyes fixed tightly on Lucius. 

Before Lucius could react Prongs had gored the backside of the Head of the Malfoy family with its antlers and a corresponding woman’s scream of pain filled the air. Harry couldn’t help but snort in amusement as Lucius lay in a heap on the ground with Prongs standing threateningly over his cowering form. 

After a few minutes Prongs huffed dismissively at Malfoy before spinning around and trotting happily over to Harry. Unable to not smile at his patronus Harry reached out and patted the silvery animal’s side. However, the second his hand made contact a shot of power flooded him not unlike the time Dudley made him stick a fork in the toaster socket except this time he was inundated with raw magic. 

Feeling much better Harry had just enough time to drag himself to his feet and thank Prongs before the stag vanished from sight.

Now that the Dementors and patronus were gone Harry could see that only a handful of wizards and witches were left but, unsurprisingly, none of them were Deatheaters. Harry guessed that they all fled when the Dementors arrived, an additional attack on Diagon Alley probably thanks to their master. Remembering that he had more to finish today before he could find somewhere safe to rest Harry started towards a nearby body. 

The man looked to be in his fifties with a large bulbous nose and short greying red hair. Harry wasn’t sure what it was exactly but something about this man was needling him, like his subconscious was trying to tell him something. In the end Harry pushed his thoughts to the side again and reminded himself that he was here as a healer not to gawk at injured wizards.

With his wand in hand Harry quickly cast the diagnosis charm on the still form at his feet and groaned in pity at the results. The man had severe burns across his face, every bone from his waist down was broken, there was a minor curse on his lungs and he was suffering from the beginning stages of Dragon Pox.

“Poor bastard.” Harry muttered as he started healing the man.

Sirius Black

Sirius was many things, depending on who you asked, but he had never considered himself a coward. Yet, as he sat in the side alley, hiding from Dementors, he had never felt worse about himself. He was a member of the noble Order of the Phoenix. He wasn’t meant to be hiding. He was meant to be defeating dark wizards and saving damsels in distress.

The attack on Diagon Alley had caught them all unaware and when he’d been called in with the cavalry the Order and Ministry had already taken massive hits from the Deatheaters. They’d only just started making progress in their fight when the Dementors descended. With no real defence against such creatures Sirius had reluctantly allowed Remus and Alastor Moody to drag him behind a nearby shop for cover.

Sirius felt sick as he watched the Dementors circling the injured and unconscious bodies in the alley like vultures. With no form of defence or offence to battle those bloody creatures and the anti-apparition wards holding over the entire area, Sirius ground his teeth in frustration as he realised that he was going to be forced to watch Dementors feed.

“We gotta do **_something_** _.”_ Sirius whispered to his companions as other members of the Order sort shelter in their hiding place.

“We can’t.” Remus replied heavily. “We can’t even escape the same way we got here. The portkeys’ timers won’t reactivate for another thirty minutes.”

Sirius didn’t like his friend sounding so depressed but he certainly understood. The only thing they’d do by running out there would be to die with the others. They had to survive for the war effort and sacrificing themselves for no reason to Dementors wouldn’t help anyone. Sirius might hate it but their only option was to stay put and hope that the Dementors didn’t sense them.

Seeing the Dementors get closer and closer, Sirius shut his eyes not wanting to see what came next. It is said to be impossible to stomach watching a Dementors’ Kiss and he wasn’t inclined to test that theory. However, just as things were looking bleak a tenor voice called out.

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

Sirius could only watch in awe as a young man appeared from thin air, standing strong and determined against the Dementors, as he sent his fully corporeal patronus against the horde of Dementors. It was truly awe-inspiring to see a fully formed patronus in the flesh as the only wizard he knew that could cast it perfectly was Dumbledore, and the man wasn’t usually casting it for a party trick.

“What the hell…?” 

Sirius hid his own shock behind a smirk that he directed to the wizard to his left. “Everything okay there, Moody?”

“Shut up, Sirius.” The man muttered darkly.

Sirius’ smirk only widened at the reply. It was open knowledge in the Order that Alastor Moody, expert dueller, had been working on the Patronus spell for years with little success. Although Sirius could sympathize as nobody else could perform it either he couldn’t help pushing the wizard’s buttons. Sirius didn’t know why they bothered trying anymore though as the spell needed to be fuelled with positivity and happy memories, unfortunately, both of which rather hard to come by in wartime.

The trio continued watching as the unknown wizard finished fighting off the Dementors single handedly before falling to his knees. Sirius laughed loudly as the stag patronus flew after Malfoy and gored him with its antlers before fading away. The moment the patronus completely vanished Sirius could actually feel the difference such a spell made as his earlier amusement and happiness faded back to normal levels. It was one thing to read about the Patronus Charm but it was something else to feel its effects. 

With the threat gone, and by the looks of it their enemies, Sirius started moving out of his hiding place only to be held back by a concerned looking Remus.

“Don’t, Sirius.” Remus whispered as his amber eyes locked tightly on their savior. “We don’t know anything about him.”

Sirius tuned out his friend and their grumpy companion as Moody and Remus started working out logistics in favour of watching the wizard standing alone in the alley. There was something about him that seemed so familiar to Sirius. He’d been startled when Lucius had called him Potter, but as the only ones alive were safely back at Hogwarts he assumed that he blonde bastard was wrong. He wished he was standing in a better spot as the only details he could make out were the stranger’s dark shaggy hair.

“What do you think, Sirius?” Remus asked as the unknown wizard started walking up to a fallen Order member.

“Huh?” He replied looking between the two wizards who were now too busy frowning at the sight in front of them to reiterate their question.

The lad had gathered himself up and walked over to a nearby Order member. The alley seemed to be holding their breath as the impressive wizard before them started waving his wand over the Order member with a look of concentration on his face.

“What’s he doing to Fabian?” Moody asked tensely. 

The moment he asked the question their fears were realised as one half of the infamous Prewett twins vanished into thin air. As the unknown wizard started walking back up the alley Moody turned to them. 

“Remus, I want you to help those Ministry fools and take down the anti-apparition wards around the alley.” The grizzled war veteran demanded before turning his eyes to Sirius. “And you…I want you on clean up duty, gather our injured and take them back to the Hospital Wing.”

“What about you?” Sirius asked as Remus sprang into action and ran out of their hiding place with a few Order members at his side.

“I’m going to catch me an unknown.”

Sirius watched the older wizard stride out into the street and point his wand at their saviour’s back.

“ _Stupefy!”_


	2. The last healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is interrogated by Moody and Dumbledore before he is escorted to prove his identity as a healer.

Harry woke up to find himself sitting in a chair with his arms bound tightly behind his back and his head feeling heavy. Unfortunately, judging from the fact that he couldn’t see anything but splashes of color, and he couldn’t feel a familiar cold metallic feeling on his nose, some jerk had taken his glasses. It took him a moment but fragments of his memory started coming back to him and he was rather annoyed at himself for letting someone sneak up and capture him; even though he felt a little woozy he felt alert enough to be embarrassed at letting someone get the drop on him. 

‘Some saviour.’ He thought to himself.

Using one of his last useful senses in his current situation, Harry strained his hearing trying to pick up the sounds of footsteps, muffled talking, or anything to give him more information. When he was met with only deafening silence, he assumed he was alone. Knowing they’d be back sooner or later, Harry tried to think of a way out, but every time a plan popped into his head the dull throbbing pain in his head quickly drove it away. 

Failing that he tried to deduce the potion or spell they’d used on him but again his thoughts were only there momentarily before they too vanished. Just as Harry was going to try using magic blinded and restrained, normally a very bad idea, he heard a door creak open behind him. 

“You’re awake.”

Harry wanted to be sarcastic but stamped it down not wanting to anger the people responsible for his capture when he was in such a condition. However, it appeared that his silence was expected as two people continued into the room and took their positions in the front of him. 

The first blob was tall and wore bright red robes and judging from the amount of white trailing from his face to his waist Harry deduced he probably had some kind of beard. The second blob was shorter but was certainly broader than his friend and seemed to favour grey and black clothing.

“I’m sure you know what happens next, little spy.” The shorter blob growled out moving closer to Harry. “It just so happens that coercion and interrogation are my favourite parts of this job.”

Harry shivered in horrified disgust at the gleeful tone in the man’s voice. Thanks to the little display at Diagon Alley Harry was able to deduce that the people of this world were at war, but the only side that showed such delight in torture was the Deatheaters, especially that crazy Bellatrix Lestrange. However, there was something somewhat familiar about the voice under the layers of venom.

Really not liking where these guys’ heads were at, Harry tried reasoning with them. “Look, I’m not a spy and I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I can’t even see you without my glasses so I’m not likely to start attacking you.”

The shorter man snorted as the taller man started moving. 

“What are you doing, Albus?”

Hearing that name Harry froze as the tall red blob moved right up to him and he felt something slip on his face. Instantly the room and his two hosts came into crystal clear view with the help of his newly acquired glasses and Harry gasped. He was tied to a chair in the middle of the Headmaster of Hogwarts’ office with his two kidnappers Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody.

Harry couldn’t believe it. He knew that there was a chance that, wherever he ended up, he could met those he’d lost in the war but to actually see them in the flesh was rather overwhelming. Both wizards looked exactly as Harry remembered them, albeit a little older, and he felt the tense battle-ready instinct melt away.

“What the bloody hell did you do that for?” Moody spat whirling around to Dumbledore like a one-eyed spinning top. “We had him at a disadvantage when he was blinded then you go and give him back his glasses.”

He knew that they weren’t his real allies, and any friends or family he’d met weren’t the ones he’d lost, but seeing them alive soothed some of the guilt in his chest that had burdened his heart since the war. 

Dumbledore didn’t look remotely put out that Moody was growling at him and kept his blue eyes fixed on him. 

“I don’t believe we have anything to worry about.” Dumbledore replied to Moody’s continued rumblings before turning to said grizzled wizard. “Do you have it?”

Without bothering to answer Dumbledore Moody hobbled over to Harry, taking out a small vial from his jacket pocket as he went.

“Open your mouth.” 

Unsure if he should trust this odd good cop, bad cop routine Harry followed the instructions knowing he wouldn’t be able to fight is way out without a wand whilst tied to a chair and against both of them. Harry watched as Moody opened the vial and, using the dropper, placed five drops into his mouth. It was then that Harry realised what potion they were giving him as his mind went blank and his body relaxed further into his seat. 

‘Great - some bloody truth serum.’ He thought as Moody took a few steps back next to Dumbledore and withdrew a wand from his pocket. Harry knew it wasn’t the truth serum he was used to as veritaserum didn’t have a burnt odour and wasn’t a pale orange color but there was no denying the effects.

“What is your name?” Moody demanded his one good eye narrowing dangerously.

Harry instantly felt his mouth open of its own accord. “Harry Peverell.”

Despite the smooth and calm answer Harry was startled when the fake name fell out of his mouth. When he had started planning out his new life he had also created a new identity for himself. He had been going to keep Harry James but change the last name to Evans, a muggle surname in honor of his mother, as Potter would’ve been too noticeable. Harry Peverell was a complete shock.

“Who sent you, the Ministry or The Dark Lord?”

“Neither.”

“What was your mission?”

“Mission?” Harry asked feeling more confused than he sounded with his potion induced monotone voice. Internally Harry was just glad that he didn’t consider having a peaceful and happy life a ‘mission’ or his answer would’ve been surprising to his captors.

Dumbledore looked at Moody with widened eyes but other than a small twitch in the shorter man’s neck he didn’t show any sign of surprise. With a determined frown on his face Moody launched into a barrage of similar questions ranging from the location of some artefact called the Eye of Horus, to insider information on ‘the Dark Forces’. Each time Harry gave them negative answers as he had no idea what they were talking about; although from talking about Dark Lords he assumed that the bastard he’d killed in his home world was still alive here.

Dumbledore took out his wand and silently cast the tempus charm. “You’ve only got five seconds, Alastor.”

“What did you do to Prewett?”

Harry frowned. “Prewett?” 

The second his answer was given Harry could literally feel the last remnants of the truth serum dissolve away.

“Damn it.” Moody swore taking a step to the side as Dumbledore ignored him and took a step forward.

“Who are you, Mr Peverell?” Dumbledore asked peering down at him through his half-moon spectacles. “You don’t seem very battle aware, as Alastor has informed me how easy it was to capture you, which suggests to me you’re not a spy or an auror. As for working for the Dark Lord I tested you when Alastor brought you to Hogwarts and cannot find any dark magic lingering on you. So…I ask again…who are you, Mr Peverell?”

Knowing that it wasn’t really meant to be a jab at his skills saying that Moody thought him weak, Harry tried to put the insult to the side and answered honestly as he could.

“I’m a healer.”

The effect of such a simple statement of just three simple words was rather amusing to Harry; Moody’s jaw unhinged and Dumbledore took a step back looking torn between multiple emotions but the twinkle in his eyes was rather dominant.

“Bullshit!” Moody yelled swiftly drawing his wand from his pocket and pointing the gnarled wand at Harry’s head. “There is no bloody way you’re a healer.”

“Alastor…”

“Albus!” Moody shouted back still looking dangerously at Harry as his wand started spitting green sparks. “You can’t honestly think that this bastard…”

“Alastor, please go and prepare the Hospital Wing for our arrival.” Dumbledore loudly interrupted not moving his eyes from Harry’s.

It took a moment for Moody to move but a moment later he spun around and glared at Dumbledore as the older wizard, as though sensing the ex-auror’s attitude, turned and stared blankly back. Harry watched in confusion as they both stood completely still and continued staring at each other until Moody finally broke.

“Fine.” He growled darkly before stomping out in a huff.

Only once the door was firmly closed behind Moody did Dumbledore say anything. “You’re not from around here, are you, Mr Peverell?”

Not knowing what to say Harry just shrugged to which Dumbledore smiled and nodded as though Harry had just divulged all his secrets. Dumbledore waved his hand and Harry’s binds vanished into thin air. Feeling the rough rope vanish from his skin Harry immediately started rubbing his wrists in an attempt to soothe the raw skin. 

“I’m sorry about Alastor’s reaction but he is correct to be dubious, after all, there hasn’t been a single qualified and permanent healer in Britain for well over a hundred years.”

Harry gaped at Dumbledore. “But…but how could that be true?”

Dumbledore moved over to his desk and took a seat with a loud sigh. “It’s a long story.” He said pointing to the seat on the other side of his desk. Not particularly caring that Dumbledore had been, just moments ago, been one of his kidnappers, Harry quickly took the seat as his curiosity had completely taken over.

“The art of Healing has suffered many issues in the past but arguably the most horrific was when an evil witch, nearly a hundred years ago, targeted Britain’s healers and magical hospitals in an attempt to weaken the Ministry and ensure her victory. Unfortunately, she was very through. She was eventually defeated but the damage to our community was irreversible.”

Harry frowned imagining the devastation that ridding the world of healers would’ve done. From her twisted point of view it made sense as it would’ve been easier to take over, or cause general mayhem, if the sick public or injured aurors couldn’t get medical help. He couldn’t recall hearing about such a witch in his own dimension, but it’s possible she existed and was stopped or changed her mind before such a thing could happen in his own world. Regardless, such an attack would have dramatic effects across the magical world.

“Couldn’t more healers be trained? I mean, you could’ve gotten a healer from another country to come over and train the next generation.”

While healing required good knowledge in many magical areas, the art of healing itself was taught and passed down from healer to trainee verbally. Reading books could only take a trainee so far as a book can’t really guide them from asserting too much magic in a healing ward or how to properly sense disease in a patient. 

“Indeed and we tried.” Dumbledore nodded glumly. “Unfortunately, before we’d even managed to finish the first lot of new healers, a new Dark Lord attacked. He fought Nightshade, the previous witch I mentioned, and took over. He captured some of the healers for his own use and killed the rest, focusing on the specialists who’d come over to help us. Since then no country has been willing to send any help over fearing such an attack again. We are on our own.”

“While a massive blow it couldn’t be the end of healers.” Harry alleged. “Why not train them using healing texts then? I mean I know it’s not the same…”

“Again, Mr Peverell, that is exactly what we did do. However, every side of the war wants those texts and artefacts for themselves and are very possessive of anything that could give their side an advantage. As is expected in wartime there have been raids to try and acquire other group’s materials or resources and it often ends up in destruction. For it seems that if they can’t manage to get something, it’s better destroyed than in the enemy’s hands.” 

Harry shivered realising that when Dumbledore said resources he was including any wannabe healers in that as well. 

Dumbledore let his words settle for a moment before he cleared his throat and caught Harry’s eye. Instantly Harry felt a pressure in his head and yanked his head down so he was staring at the stone floor. Despite being rubbish at the mind arts Harry was very good at recognising the symptoms of such an attack and knew what Dumbledore had just tried to do.

“My thoughts are my own, Dumbledore. You’d do well to stay out of my mind.” Harry bite out not bothering to hide the contempt in his voice.

Harry ground his teeth together in frustration at Dumbledore’s gall. Not only did they attack and detain him but now he was trying to force his way into Harry’s mind. Despite not knowing this Dumbledore at all he couldn’t help make annoying comparisons to the one from his world. 

Dumbledore shrugged at Harry’s outburst and looked completely uncaring. “I had to try as what I will ask of you will put many in danger if it turns out you’ve somehow managed to deceive us.”

Just as Harry had opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about the office door behind him was thrown open with a loud smash. Looking over his shoulder Harry could see Moody standing in the doorway with his wooden staff in hand and a deadly scowl on his scarred face.

“It’s ready.”

Dumbledore nodded to his compatriot and turned to Harry. “Let’s go see if you are truly a healer, shall we, Mr Peverell.”

\--

Having been a student at Hogwarts for many years Harry immediately recognised the familiar path they took and his captives’ previous words started making sense. They were going to test him. The trio moved through the castle in a tense silence until they reached the Hospital Wing’s large mahogany double doors. Moody moved to open the door but paused briefly with his hand on the door knob to glare darkly at Harry.

“Give me one reason to doubt your words that you’re a healer and I’ll send you back to Voldemort in pieces.”

Harry shivered as Moody’s whispered promise hung heavy in the afternoon air but nodded knowing that Moody wouldn’t proceed until Harry had accepted his threat. With a last irritated look at Dumbledore Moody threw open the doors and hobbled inside.

Walking into the Hogwarts' Hospital Wing Harry instantly did a double take as he took in the unfamiliar room around him. The room was massive. He suspected that through the liberal use of magical expansion charms, the Hospital Wing was now roughly the size of the Great Hall and was filled with a sea of beds in tight rows. The first ten bed-ridden occupants closest to the door were all moving about on their beds and were moaning painfully, the rest in the room were eerily still with their arms by their sides and a peaceful look on their faces. Harry noted that against the back wall he could make out a few beds that carried bodies in Hogwarts uniforms.

‘Probably placed there away from the entrance of the room, as far away from the door as possible in case someone broke in, or a dimension travelling wizard lands in their midst.’ Harry thought to himself.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Peverell.” Moody snarked effectively drawing Harry’s attention away from the sick and toward the barking wizard. “You’re here for one reason and that’s to prove your claim.”

Not realising that he’d been walking down the aisle and observing the patients Harry sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and tried to ignore Moody’s glare and Dumbledore’s amused stare.

“How’d you like me to prove it?” Harry asked rhetorically as having been dragged to the Hospital Wing made Moody’s challenge rather obvious.

“It’s simple. Pick a person on a red bed and heal them. If you don’t or they die…” Moody said drifting off as he pulled out a jagged knife from the folds in his coat. “I’ll slice you open slowly and see what your spleen looks like.”

Harry blanched at the cold glee that seemed to ignite in Moody’s one good eye. It appeared that while both versions of Moody shared a deep intensity, this one was certainly a lot darker than the one from his past. Getting no help or reassurance from Dumbledore who was standing behind Moody with a small smile on his aged face, Harry shook it off and slid into his healer mindset.

Looking back at the beds before him Harry could easily pinpoint the red beds that Moody had been talking about, and from a cursory glance around, a lot of the other beds had been colored as well. Bright reds, blues, greens, blacks and whites were obviously a color coding system but Moody was right, he needed to concentrate if he wanted to leave without duelling Moody and Dumbledore.

The first few of conscious patients were on white beds, identical to the ones from his world, so he ignored those for now and focused on the first red bed. The first bed on the left after the white grouping was bright red and holding aloft a lanky woman with soft blonde hair and a bulbous nose. Harry could practically feel the heavy charms covering her and keeping her in a deep magically induced sleep. 

Such spells were rarely used back in his world as they often had terrible side effects but it was clear they overused them here; Harry suspected that the blissed out expressions on everyone else in the Hospital Wing were the result of the same thing. Despite the risks the charm wasn’t without its uses as the patient would be free from pain and, with some exceptions, their wounds or illnesses would be slowed dramatically.

Ready to take action Harry held out his hand towards the pair. “Wand.”

Moody took out a gnarled yellowish wand and grasped it tightly in his pudgy fingers but otherwise neither of his kidnappers moved to follow his request. 

“You expect me to do this without a wand?” Harry inquired with a huff of annoyance and disbelief. “If you want me to start healing your people then you _will_ give me what I need. I suggest starting with my wand.”

He was starting to get very annoyed with Dumbledore and Moody and their combative stance. He hadn’t done anything wrong and they were treating him worse than a criminal.

Thankfully instead of hexing him for his sass, something that Harry was certain Moody was probably contemplating, Dumbledore took a familiar looking wand out of his left robe pocket. He threw it to him and with his seeker skills, Harry expertly caught the Holy wand in his hand. Instantly the surge of magical comfort flowed through him as he was once again paired with his partner.

Not seeing the point of thanking them Harry turned to the woman’s bed, raised his wand and pointed it at her head. He had just opened his mouth to cast his first spell when Moody swiftly moved closer.

“What are you doing? Talk it through.” He barked bringing his own wand up and pointing it at Harry’s neck.

Harry glared at Moody hearing the deep distrust and anger mingled in between his gravelly voice. “What I was going to do is perform a diagnosis charm to find out what’s wrong with her.”

Rather than respond with words Moody just gave a nod of confirmation. Seeing it as an okay to continue, Harry turned back to the unknown lady on the bed.

 _“Egritudo.”_ He murmured causing a pale light to erupt from his wand and cover the patient. With the spell in effect Harry took note as different colors flashed over her body; a cloud of dark purple flashed over her chest three times, the scars on her neck turned grey and her left leg turned green before all three colors slowly faded away. Sensing the spell was finished Harry cancelled it and lowered his arm.

“Well, boy, what did you find out?” Moody spat twitching nervously.

Ignoring the odd reaction of the normally unshakeable wizard, Harry answered his question as professionally as possible. “The patient’s most serious issues are that she has sustained three shattered ribs from a single dark curse and has been the victim of a poorly cast bone-banishing curse on her leg. The only other issue I found were the six fairly deep scratches on her neck that someone has _very_ poorly attempted to heal.”

Just like his declaration of being a healer, his explanation had a different effect on his two audience members. Dumbledore’s smile grew wider on his face until he was practically beaming at him and Moody’s hand tightened on his wand. 

“I used a repairing charm. Standard procedure.” Moody bit out darkly as he glared at Harry.

Harry scoffed at Moody’s attitude and his logic as it would’ve been better for her if he'd used a muggle stapler instead.

“You’ll have to excuse Alastor, Mr Peverell.” Dumbledore interrupted as a muscle twitched dangerously in said man’s cheek. “I’m afraid we are all a little sensitive about the well-being of our family members…particularly in wartime.”

Harry’s annoyance faded away as he briefly looked between the two family members and it didn’t take long for him to assume that she was Moody’s daughter. The woman had blonde hair like Moody has under all his grey, his strong jaw and judging from the lack of wrinkles across her face she couldn’t be a wife or sister which left daughter.

He swore in his head and let out a sigh feeling slightly guilty for insinuating Moody, as the caster of the repairing charm, had done wrong by his daughter. He had been trying to help and in wartime sometimes a rough job is better than nothing.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said regretfully to the older man. “I didn’t mean to imply that you deliberately hurt her, if I’d known I would have phrased it very differently, especially considering you’re her father.”

Moody grunted in reply and fell into silence as his human eye roamed over to his daughter and his magical eye fixed blankly at him.

“I must say I’m curious as to why you think the repairing charm is a poor healing charm, Mr Peverell.” Dumbledore said moving closer still until he was on the other side of the bed staring down at the woman like she was some interesting puzzle. “Alastor is correct after all. Both the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix use the charm as a standard procedure in the field.”

Pushing away the awkward feeling at having to explain something magical to a version of his old Headmaster, Harry answered the question.

“To put it bluntly the repairing charm was created for inanimate objects not living beings. Using it on a person means overpowering the spell and forcing together frayed muscle, damaged veins and shoving skin together very roughly. It’s not a proper heal. As such the area will be very sore and easily injured again, not to mention it can lead to serious issues in the immediate future and will always leave scarring.”

Dumbledore looked up at him briefly before returning his gaze to Moody’s daughter and muttering under his breath. “…fascinating…just fascinating…”

However interesting Dumbledore found his diagnosis or his brief lecture on the repairing charm in healing it wasn’t making Moody any less easy to deal with.

“What are you waiting for, Peverell? Heal her.”

Harry pre-emptively sighed knowing that his further news wouldn’t be welcome. 

“Even though her ribs are shattered I’ll use a variation of the bone mending charm to fix that up. Normally curses are more difficult to heal but she seems to be lucky as whatever curse she was hit with was cast with damage in mind, rather than giving her lasting effects or trying to prevent healing. The way to fix her leg though will require more than spell work.” Harry explained gesturing to her left leg that stayed wrapped up in the folds of her robes.

“Like what, Peverell?” Moody grunted as Dumbledore stood beside him looking very interested. 

“A Skele-Grow potion.” 

Both wizards looked at each other in confusion before turning back to Harry clearly waiting on an explanation. Seeing this look on their faces Harry swore in his head, shocked at just how weak their knowledge on healing was. 

“A Skele-Grow Potion does exactly what it sounds like. It regrows missing bones. However, it does take time to make and the time for recovery depends on which bones need to be healed and the number of them. For Miss Moody I expect that a week on the potion would have her to rights again.”

Moody looked in shock between them before his one good eye looked at his daughter and softened. It was the first time that Harry had seen this Moody look so lost and sad; which normally wouldn’t be a good feeling but Harry honestly preferred it to the man’s default emotion of murderous.

“I must confess that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of this potion. What ingredients are needed for such a potion?”

Despite getting much better at Potions with Slughorn as his teacher and after the war at St Mungos, Harry still had to rack his mind to recall the exact ingredients. “Chinese chomping cabbage, dried puffer-fish, scarab beetles …”

“And you can brew this potion?” Moody interrupted with a slightly hopeful expression.

“Err…yeah of course. I’ll need my backpack for my supplies and the potion itself isn’t that complicated but …I spose it does take longer than the average healing concoction.”

Moody snorted. “You’re not getting your things back until you’ve proven to us that you’re a healer. Your diagnosis charm helped your cause but for all we know that was all guess work…or maybe you know the bastard who attacked her.”

Harry briefly stared at the man in shock before his jaw tightened in anger. If anyone had the right to be furious and distrusting it was him. He was the one who’d been kidnapped and now that he was helping his kidnappers he was expected to deal with their attitude. However, as horrible as the thought was, they were also the only people he knew in this world and making them an enemy wasn’t ideal.

“Fine.” Harry conceded rolling his eyes and turning back to his patient. 

Harry waved his wand over the woman's ribs and a blue light shone out of his wand. Keeping his wand firmly in position Harry let his magic fuel the spell in a steady stream until, after ten seconds, the three broken ribs audibly cracked back into place. Despite feeling confident in his spell-work Harry quickly cast the diagnosis charm to double check the results. 

“Done.” Harry said turning away from his patient and towards the two wizards. “The ribs are healed but will be tender for a while and she’s lucky they didn’t puncture any of her organs. Now, other than her leg that needs the Skele-grow potion I’ve already mentioned, I’ve got a paste in my bag that will help heal some of the damage from the repairing charm and that’s all for Miss Moody.”

Moody stared at him long and hard with both his normal and magical eye boring into him before he finally moved and put Harry out of his misery. “Do it. But I warn you now, Peverell, one thing goes wrong or if she doesn’t heal properly – you’ll answer to me.”

With his threat delivered Moody spun on his heel and swept from the room with his trench coat flapping behind in his wake. Harry looked briefly down at his patient before turning around and staring at the seemingly endless series of beds around him. 

“They all need a healer. A rare skill in this country unfortunately.” Dumbledore said behind him.

Harry nodded in agreement. He’d come to this world to be free from war and have a chance at a real life. However, he couldn’t turn his back on these people. He’d taken a vow when he became a healer to help those in need and he wouldn’t turn away now. Although, on the plus side it seemed that for once he’ll be acknowledged for something he actually achieved, being a healer, rather than for the sacrifice of his parents. 

With this in mind Harry sighed. “I’ll stay and help treat these people but I want to make something very clear, Dumbledore. I have not chosen a side in this war and I’m not your man. I’m a healer.”

Harry didn’t hear a response but could make out the soft shuffling of the Headmaster’s feet on the stone floor as he made his way to the door. “I’ll ensure that you have everything you need, Healer Peverell.”

At first Harry didn’t say anything but he turned around wanting to deal with an issue that was making him anxious. He started telling Dumbledore about the fight in Diagon Alley from his point of view, telling him about the hidden auror under a sleeping spell and shields, about the handful of people in his makeshift hospital ward and of course the last person he tried to help before Moody stunned him.

Dumbledore listened patiently before promising to send people to retrieve them. With that said Dumbledore fixed him with his piercing blue eyes and smiled at him.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.”

Despite the ups and downs of this world Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this was the perfect place for him to rebuild his life; nobody would expect him to fight and he had a purpose for his talents as a healer. Time would tell but Harry felt confident that things were looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the story. If you want to see me please leave a comment below. If the story continues it will be a Harry/Draco fic.


	3. Irony Abounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore shares his thoughts about Harry with some of the higher members of the Order while Harry works on healing the numerous patients he is now responsible for. As Harry works he has no idea what Dumbledore is planning and how to best place him as a permanent asset for the Order.

Albus Dumbledore

Albus walked out of the Hospital Wing and slowly meandered his way back to his office as his mind whirled into action. Harry Peverell was a blessing wrapped up in layers of secrets and mistrust, but if he wanted to turn Harry into an ally against Voldemort that would have to change. Albus knew that is was reasonable for Peverell to be upset with them as Alastor had attacked him, kidnapped him and then subjected him to truth serum. However, this was a time of war and certain niceties were a thing of the past.

Yet, despite the difficulties they’d have to overcome Albus knew that it would be worth it. Having a Healer on their side would be more than advantageous as it could change the course of the war. For a century the British magical world had struggled without those who specialised in magical healing; having to deal with treatable injuries taking lives and that disease ran rampant through their communities without anyone to save them. Now things were different. They had a saviour in the form of Harry Peverell. 

He’d just started mentally adjusting his future plans and strategies when he reached the stone eagle that guarded his office. Albus gave the guardian his password, Sherbet Lemon, before sauntering up the staircase and into his office. He had a lot of planning and thinking to do as the Order of the Phoenix still had a role to play but he would need to think of ways to get Peverell’s trust while grilling him for his secrets. 

Having expected his office to be empty as he’d only been gone a short time from his private rooms, Albus was shocked at how crowded it had become as he opened the door; Alastor was leaning against the back wall, James and Lily Potter were standing in the middle of the room in a huddle with Remus and Sirius, a delighted Dedalus Diggle was hovering near his desk and the Longbottoms were standing in the far corner of the room with their arms around each other. 

“Good afternoon.” Albus declared to the room as a whole before walking over to his desk having the suspicion that this wouldn’t be a short inquiry. The last time eight of his most senior Order members barged into his office was to deal with a massive breakout in Azkaban four years ago.

“Please take a seat.”

The room was suddenly alive with magic as people started conjuring seating for themselves. Albus had only just taken his own seat behind his desk when he was bombarded with questions. Hearing a familiar subject amongst all the noise, Albus smirked as he held up a hand to silence their tirade. 

“Now I presume that you’re all here because you know about our new resident?”

At the smattering of confirmations around the room Albus nodded in understanding as his eyes drifted over to Alastor. It had always amazed him how fast news travelled around Hogwarts; even during the holidays it seemed to be an unstoppable force.

“I understand but first there is an urgent task that requires our attention.”

“Urgent?” James Potter inquired from his place squashed in between his wife and Sirius on what appeared to be a bright red muggle sofa.

“I’m given to understand that our efforts in Diagon Alley this morning were a success, Alastor?” Albus asked ignoring James’ question.

“The Deatheaters and their ilk were driven out.”

Albus hummed at Alastor’s clipped reply. He’d already had a more through debriefing with Alastor.

“What of casualties?” 

Alastor glared from his place at the back of the room, being the only one who didn’t bother conjuring himself a seat, but answered the question after a moments pause.

“We lost five. Fenwick, Meadowes, Vance, Doge and Fabian Prewett.”

“The Ministry lost a few aurors as well.” Remus added helpfully. “They believe that the Deatheaters took some of their bodies as they fled the scene. Probably why we couldn’t find Fenwick, Meadowes, Vance or Prewett.”

“How do you know that?” Sirius asked turning to Remus on his right.

Albus could sympathize with the pale look on Sirius’ face as the last time the Deatheaters kidnapped innocence and members of the Order it was to experiment new poisons on them. 

“After the battle I offered to help the Ministry on clean-up and spoke with Amelia. Apparently, most of their forces today were only recruits.”

Normally such a statement about missing allies would be sad to hear but Albus had a feeling he knew where some of them, if not all, had disappeared to. Albus was glad that Amelia Bones was there today to help deal with the attack on Diagon Alley as the witch was both formidable as she was sharp as a tack. Despite her place as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the busy witch also played a key role for the Order. 

Tuning out Sirius mumbling about the stupidity of only having recruits on duty, Albus turned to Alastor.

“Alastor, please gather at least five of our agents and head back down to Diagon Alley. In an abandoned shop, very close to the battle, you will find at least some of our missing forces. Be careful however as the premises is under protective enchantments.” Albus said momentarily ignoring the rest of the group in order to look the moody Alastor in the eye.

“…Peverell?” He growled as both eyes narrowed in dislike.

“Indeed.” Albus answered with a quirked eyebrow. Peverell had proven his worth as a Healer by diagnosing and healing Claudine Moody mere moments ago, but it seems the young wizard and more to prove to the ex-auror. “There is also another man under a sleeping charm and shields at the entrance to the alley and another one near the shop in question under a disillusionment charms. Please ensure that our forces are brought straight to the Hospital Wing and the Ministry’s aurors are returned safely.”

Alastor bared his teeth slightly but obviously accepted his request as he quickly hobbled out of the room without a word.

“Albus…” Lily started only for Albus to once again raise his hand.

“I’m sorry, Lily, but there is one more thing I must do before we speak.” Albus said before calling for a house elf. Instantly a loud crack filled his office as a house elf appeared and bowed before him. The house elf had massive green eyes, large bat-like ears and wore a clean white pillow case over his frail form.

“Yes, Master Dumblydore?” He said staring up at Albus with a smile.

“Ah, Dobby, I have an important mission for you.” He said feeling the eyes of his fellow Order members burning holes into him. Without missing a beat Albus pulled a brown shoulder bag from under his desk and handed it over to the small elf. “Please deliver this to Healer Peverell. You will also be reassigned as his personal house elf to help him get accustomed to Hogwarts.”

Dobby’s eyes started watering and his smile grew larger across his face. “ _Healer?_ Master Dumblydore found a healer? Oh…yes…Dobby be giving this to Healer Peverell.”

Albus chuckled at the small elf as he disappeared with a loud crack. 

“Enough stalling, Albus, we want to know what’s happening. Alastor told us that you’ve brought an unknown into the Hospital Wing...some kid called Peverell. A… _Healer?_ Surely he’s just a Deatheater.” Frank Longbottom said with the hope in his brown eyes outshining the bitter tone in his voice.

‘Ah, so that’s how they gathered so quickly, Alastor indeed summoned them. Thought so.’ Albus thought as it started making sense.

Taking a deep breath Albus started explaining about their newest addition to the Order of the Phoenix. With each example of Peverell’s skills Albus could actually see their mouths drop lower and their eyes widen from shock. He could understand their surprise as the notion of finding a Healer to help them seemed like a fantasy, but it didn’t change the fact that one was upstairs right now.

“You’re sure, Albus?” 

Hearing the soft, delicate voice Albus turned to Alice Longbottom and gave the witch a sad smile as tears started silently falling down her heart-shaped face.

“I am sure, yes. When Alastor brought him into my office I performed numerous checks upon him while he was still unconscious. There was nothing malicious about him nor was there any dark magic residing on him. Then there is the matter of what he’s done so far and there is little doubt about it. Harry Peverell is a Healer.” 

The effects of such a simple sentence were instantaneous around the room as people felt the weight of what having a Healer meant. Lily and Remus gave shaky warm smiles to each other, James and Sirius started cheering and crowing in delight while the Longbottoms embraced each other as they cried into their partner’s robes. 

Albus could only smile sadly at the group as they all processed the news. As what happens in wartime they’d all lost people over the years and now they were being shown a glimmer of hope.

“A-are you s-sure, Albus?” Dedalus Diggle said repeating Alice’s earlier question before continuing. “I mean… this could change everything for us. We now have a chance in this war.” 

He turned to Dedalus and smiled at the worn disbelieving face of his old friend. He could understand Dedalus’ concerns and relief better than anyone as the man had been largely responsible for burying their fallen and helping the families grieve. He had done an admirable job in a difficult role for the Order but now he could see a better future, one where he didn’t need to be constantly surrounded by sadness. 

“Yes it will but as you’re all here and that you all know…I have a mission for you.” Albus started capturing their attention as the cheering and sniffling diminished. “Harry Peverell is currently healing upstairs in the Hospital Wing but he has made his position very clear. He is a Healer first and foremost and will not join the Order. It is imperative that we change his mind.”

Albus was certain that between the Deatheaters and the Ministry they were severely weaker; the Ministry had five staff attached to their Healing Ward, Voldemort had captured a mediwitch from France and the Order had a potions master who knew less about healing magic than a muggle.

“You think he’ll go to Voldemort?” Sirius asked as his entire face fell from its previous state of joy now making him look broken and depressed in comparison.

Taking a moment to truly think through the question Albus shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. From our conversations and my observations I believe his reluctance had more to do with hating the war as a whole.”

“And therefore wouldn’t want to side with anyone in it.” Lily finished off with a look of understanding.

“You might be sure that he’s a Healer, Albus, but are you sure that we can trust him?” Frank asked sharing a concerned look between Remus and James. 

Reading in between the lines Albus knew that the auror was really asking. They weren’t exactly talking about trusting him as a future member of the Order but as the person who’d be healing them and their families. Neville Longbottom, Frank and Alice’s son, had been recently attacked by Bellatrix Lestrange. They still don’t know what they did to him but the damage was obvious and seeing their only child so badly injured had shaken the pair of aurors to their core; in fact it was rare to see one without the other as they seemed to draw strength from the other to simply get through the day.

“Yes.” Albus replied with a reassuring smile. “I believe we can but there is no denying that Peverell has secrets.”

“Is that why Moody seems to hate him so much?” James asked light heartedly.

Albus sent his ex-student a smile, appreciating the effort to try and lift the atmosphere. “Hard to say as Alastor is usually like that with everyone…but I can’t help but agree with Alastor in that there are too many questions regarding Peverell.”

Letting himself pause for a moment, Albus considered how much he should divulge as he didn’t want to make anyone start doubting their newest addition. “I’ve never met him before, and I believe this is his first time ever being at Hogwarts, yet he walked confidently from my office to the Hospital Wing as though he knew where he was going; despite Alastor and I walking with him it felt like he was leading us at times. He is British and yet he was also genuinely shocked that proper Healers are only found in our history books. Then of course there is his appearance. I’m afraid that he does pose a few troublesome questions despite his talents and our preliminary checks.”

“His appearance?” Remus asks befuddled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“A lot actually.” Albus confirmed before turning his head to the bespectacled brunette nearby. “James, I’m given to understand that you don’t have any siblings or nephews. That, other than your children, you are the last of the Potter line, is that correct?”

James startled at the odd question but pulled himself together albeit with a curious expression on his face. “Yeah, but why…”

“He looks like James, doesn’t he?” Sirius blurted out throwing a knowing look at Albus. “Lucius Malfoy was at the attack on Diagon Alley and called this Healer James.”

That was interesting as Alastor had never mentioned that slip up to him. He certainly noticed the similarities between Peverell and James, it was hard not to, but if the Deatheaters were that easy to fool Albus would have to look into this development.

“As I said…many questions.”

Meanwhile - Harry Potter

Harry watched as Dumbledore walked out of the Hospital Wing and let out a breath of relief as the doors closed behind him. It had already been a long day and as he gazed around the Hospital Wing he knew that it was only getting started. Deciding to get started Harry moved over to the first lot of beds by the door.

This first lot appeared to be the smallest in number at only ten patients and were the only ones moving about and whining in pain. Letting his eyes roam the ten beds Harry wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not that he didn’t recognise any of them; it would’ve been comforting to see a familiar face, that wasn’t an arse like Moody or annoying like Dumbledore, but he knew it was probably for the best as he needed a breather from weird for a moment. 

The first patient Harry approached appeared to be in his fifties with grey hair, a sharp angular face and a sour look on his grey face. Falling into routine Harry started with his diagnosis charms and noted that the man’s only medical issues were that his left ankle was badly twisted and someone had poorly attempted to heal it. As it was only a very minor issue and he could tell that the initial injury hadn’t been caused by magic, Harry knew that this would be a simple heal. Opting to use his wand Harry magically removed the patients left shoe and sock to get a better look at the injury.

“What are you doing, boy?” The man growled baring his yellowed teeth at Harry.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Having survived his own war, and numerous death defying moments, Harry knew to trust his instincts and right now they were flaring up against this man. 

“Directing an orchestra.” Harry replied as sincere as possible as he flicked his wand more elaborately than needed over the injured ankle. “My name is Healer Peverell and I’m healing you.”

In his own world it had been odd to be called Healer Potter at first, rather like having a title of ‘savior’, but after talking to Luna he found it more comforting than bothersome. He soon realised that being called a Healer was actually a great equaliser and a signifier of something he’d personally achieved; it was a representation of his hard work and skill, away from the war and being the Boy-Who-Lived, and was something others in his field were called regularly.

“No need for your appalling attitude, _Healer Peverell.”_ The man sneered making his name sound like dung. “There are no Healers in Britain.”

Harry lowered his wand. “Really? Then tell me how your ankle’s feeling?”

The man’s mouth sprung open to retort before his face froze in surprise and his beady eyes travelled down to his ankle. Harry granted the man a moment as he pulled himself together and turned away pouting like a child.

“Fine.” He muttered.

Seeing a small blush flare up on patient’s wrinkled skin Harry informed him that he was free to go before moving onto the next one.

He’d only managed to get through one more patient, a woman who’d accidently inhaled poisonous gas from a potion she was working on, when a loud crack pulled him up.

Spinning around at the unexpected sound Harry was stunned as he took in the small elf standing in the middle of the Hospital Wing. It had been a long time since the war and the time that he buried his friend but it didn’t mean that Dobby’s sacrifice had been forgotten. Every year Harry, Ron and Hermione would travel to Dobby’s grave by Shell Cottage, just as they did for all those lost in the war, and pay their respects to their exuberant friend.

“Master Healer…Master Healer Peverell?”

Snapping himself out of it his own head Harry refocused to see Dobby now standing a couple of feet from him wearing a concerned expression and holding a familiar bag.

“Oh…I’m sorry…I kinda zoned out there for a second.” Harry stuttered feeling himself grow warm as the concerned elf began asking if he was okay and if he needed anything, quickly drawing parallels for Harry between this elf and his lost friend.

“No, thanks I’m fine.” Harry chuckled feeling something in his chest grow warm as he waved the passionate elf away. “What can I do for you?”

Dobby gave him a dubious look before it visibly melted away and he started grinning up at Harry like a loon. “Dobby is being sent to Great Master Healer Peverell. Dobby is now Healer Peverell’s house elf and has brought him his bag.”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk at the elf as he reached out and took the offered bag. “Thanks, Dobby, but could you please not call me that. I’d like us to be friends so feel free to call me Harry.”

From his previous experience with Dobby he half expected him to start banging his head on the stone floor or burst into tears, but the small elf only beamed up at him. 

“Okay, Dobby bes doing that, Harry.”

While slightly surprising Harry quickly covered the surprise on his face. After all it made sense that this Dobby would’ve had a different life to his friend if he was summoned and assigned by Dumbledore.

Wanting to get back to healing the numerous patients around him, Harry decided to put Dobby to work preparing the rest of the room.

"Dobby, can you please change the sheets on all the beds for me please? Don't worry about the colorcode system. I'd rather they were all the same. Afterwards could you please freshen up the Hospital Wing; I'm not sure when they ever let any fresh air in here." Dobby quickly agreed and disappeared with a flash. With Dobby set to work Harry focused on his job. 

It took Harry only another twenty minutes for him to diagnose and heal the first ten patients thanks to their incredibly basic injuries; a middle aged bald wizard had a broken arm from falling off his broom, one had been bitten by a plant in the Herbology greenhouses, two had a series of small fractures in their legs and hands and the rest simply had a bad case of the flu. As each of his first patients left the Hospital Wing, healed and sporting massive grins on their faces Harry couldn't help but smile in satisfaction; he liked helping people and some of their reactions to finding out he was a Healer was rather humous. What wasn't funny though was the reason they were all stuck in the Hospital Wing to begin with over such basic issues. Hearing from Dumbledore that they were _very_ ignorant of Healing magic was one thing, but seeing the basic ‘injuries’ of these first few admitted to the Hospital Wing made things more shocking. 

Now that the easy cases were solved, and he had more room in the Hospital Wing, Harry moved onto the potentially more challenging beds. Not really knowing or trusting the colored bed system they’d put in place, Harry was glad that Dobby had already replaced all the sheets with fresh, crisp sheets. Now, he could start evaluating each person in the room and working out how to best help them, but he couldn't help but feel slightly overwhelmed at the number of patients he had, as thanks to the expansion charm in the Hospital Wing he summized that there were at least fifty people he needed to help; a fact made all the harder by the fact he was feeling rather tired after what happened in Diagon Alley, being kidnapped and healer Miss Moody. With a sigh Harry got up and set himself to it and as he was feeling confident with Miss Moody’s condition, Harry started with the bed opposite her. 

It was fairly quick work to diagnose a patient as it only took on average three spells to get concrete answers, but it had still taken him hours before he had managed to finish the mass of patients. Most were victims of curses and jinxes but some had been badly poisoned, a few had been attacked by werewolves and one poor prat had turned two dimensional as someone had vanished every bone in his body. 

Having catalogued all of his patients’ diagnoses with a notebook and quill he'd brought in his napsack, Harry knew that if he wanted to heal everyone he’d need supplies. There were a portion of them that he’d be able to help with just his wand but others, like the de-boned wizard and the wolf bitten patients, needed potions and heavy regiments. 

Turning to his bag, Harry went to one of the spare beds at the front of the Wing and started emptying his bag to review what he had left. Unfortunately, his potions supply wasn’t impressive as he only had a few vials of Dreamless Sleep Potion, five Wiggenweld Potions, a vial of Essence of Dittany and two Blood Replenishing Potions left. While annoying that his potions supply had dwindled so much he wasn’t too worried as he had remembered to bring his potions kit and could brew anything he needed. 

“Dobby?”

With a crack of a whip Dobby appeared before him and grinned happily up at him. “Yes, Harry?”

“I’m going to need to brew some potions and ointments. Any chance you could find me some cauldrons? I need two pewter, a small silver one and, if you can, a gold one.”

Dobby nodded his head, promising to find what Harry needed, before vanishing before his eyes.

‘Okay.’ Harry thought to himself as he gazed around the Hospital Wing. ‘I’ll start with…’

BANG!

Turning his head Harry witnessed a petite man and a scarred witch storm into the Hospital Wing levitating a group of people between them. Completely ignoring Harry’s presence they gently placed each of the bodies onto the spare beds and started towards the cupboards at the far end of the room. Harry had just enough time to scoop all of his belongings off the bed before they’d unceremoniously dumped a body onto it.

As the first two worked Harry watched as Moody strode into the room levitating a twitching witch by his side as another two lackeys trailed behind them like loyal dogs. Moody placed the witch on the first bed and started barking orders out to his minions. Seeing their teamwork and efficiency as they quickly, yet calmly, worked to the loud shouting of their peg-legged drill sergeant Harry couldn’t help but be impressed. Their attitude on the other hand had a lot to be desired.

Moody and his team just barged in with more patients, including those Harry recognised as his first patients back in Diagon Alley, and took over his Hospital Wing. Dumbledore had obviously taken Harry’s information and asked Moody to collect his patients, just as Harry wanted, but just as a muggle pizza delivery person didn’t stick around after making their delivery these muppets were meant to drop the patients off and disappear.

“Johnson, go and get more Salamander Blood and check the bandages in the first cupboard.” Moody shouted as he tried to make the witch he brought in comfortable. “Creevy, make sure you undo…”

“Hey, Moody!” Harry called out through gritted teeth, only to be ignored by the singled minded wizard.

“Johnson, what’s taking so long?”

“Moody!” Harry shouted as said wizard and his four intruders busied themselves around the Hospital Wing like they owned it and he wasn’t even there.

Having only worked in St Mungos Harry wasn’t used to non-medical personal barging in and acting like Healers or treating themselves. In fact, Harry found himself feeling even more respect for the tough and non-nonsense attitude of the Madam Pomfrey from his world as all that mattered to her was those under her care; even going far enough to make Dumbledore bow to her wishes and turn Fudge into a sniffling child on numerous occasions.

Seeing Moody take his wand out and position it over the twitching woman’s head, Harry decided enough was enough and opted to channel is inner Pomfrey.

“ _Expelliarmus!”_

His disarming spell struck the one-eyed wizard in the chest and pushed him back slightly, causing him to stumble back awkwardly on his peg-leg, as his wand flew through the air and into Harry’s outstretched hand. Instantly all movement in the Hospital Wing froze as every intruder’s heads, and their wands, swivelled around to focus on him. Again Harry couldn’t recognise any of the people with Moody so he decided to focus on the one pain in the arse. 

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing, Moody! This is a Hospital Wing, a place for healing, and not a place for you to barge in and start yelling!” Harry shouted now that he had everyone’s attention but being careful not to move in case any of the people around him were feeling twitchy. “Oh…by the way, Moody, from now on if any healing is going to happen it will be done by someone who knows what they are doing!”

Silence hung in the air as Harry finished his small rant, his eyes focused tightly on Moody’s stubborn brown ones.

“Moody, who is this guy?” 

Seeing Moody was about to open his mouth Harry quickly beat him to the punch.

“My name is Healer Peverell.” He replied not bothering to turn to face the scarred witch behind him as he didn’t like the idea of turning his back to Moody. “Now, if you want me to help your friend you will all lower your wands or get the hell out!”

Harry could feel his patience becoming more and more strained as the witch by Moody started deteriorating; her twitching and shaking had become violent as she thrashed around on her bed completely ignorant of the tense atmosphere around her. On the plus side her sudden intense shaking seemed to be the breaking point for Moody’s stubbornness as he ordered his agents to stand down.

Quickly Harry dashed forward, throwing Moody his wand as he went, and didn’t stop until he was right up to her bedside. First he placed the Immobulus Charm over her so that she wouldn’t hurt herself and started with the basic diagnosis charms.

“Now explain what happened and why I have another patient.” He demanded without looking away from his task.

“Don’t you demand things from me, _boy_ , just shut up and heal her.” Moody spat.

Not having the patience to deal with this Harry opted for a different and more interesting route.

“Dobby!”

Once again Dobby appeared before him with Harry’s requested cauldrons completely surrounding him.

“Yes, Harry, Dobby here.”

Harry smiled warmly back at the eager house elf before sighing sadly. “Can you please take Moody and his friends out of the Hospital Wing and ward the entrance? They’ve barged in and are risking the health of my patients.”

“Now wait here…” The petite blonde man, the first interloper, started as Dobby nodded his head and started glaring around at the group.

“Bad wizards.” He muttered as he clicked his long, nimble fingers and each of the intruders vanished in a puff of smoke. 

Despite himself Harry chuckled and thanked his friend before refocusing on the woman on the bed. His first two spells indicated that the only magic on her was a powerful disillusionment charm that spread across her face. At first glance he thought that maybe the ever suspicious Moody may have placed it there to protect her identity but the spell signature matched his new patient perfectly. 

‘Impressive.’ Harry thought to himself. ‘Her spell completely covers her face and has several countermeasures in place to ensure that someone can’t take them down.’

“But she’s never come up against Madam Pomfrey.” Harry whispered to himself with a wide grin.

During his training Madam Pomfrey had taught him a few spells that had helped her over the years. Some were rather textbook but there were five that she had developed herself from having to treat the Weasley twins’; thanks to their inventions some of their failed attempts had caused injuries and left magical consequences over them, therefore Pomfrey had to find a way to dismantle the magic over them before she could treat the damage.

“ _Extinguo Rescindo Restituo.”_ Harry said flicking his wand at the witch’s face.

A purple glow swept from his wand and settled over the unknown woman’s face. At first Harry wasn’t sure the spell was going to work but slowly the shadows across her features started to lift, cracking like glass under the pressure from Harry’s spell. He continued watching as the shadows were chased away until he was left looking at a very familiar face.

“Madam Pomfrey.”


	4. Trouble brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry mets several people from his past as he heals friend's doubles, orders around the Ministry and is assigned a protector - a rather familiar blonde.

Harry Potter

Harry groans pathetically as he is roused by a stream of sunlight that shone brightly through the Hospital Wing's large arched windows. He had spent the rest of yesterday stabilising the fighters from the Diagon Alley attack and must have fallen asleep during his rounds as the last thing he could remember was trying to dispel a particularly nasty curse that had embedded itself in some poor sap's lung; the horrid spell squeezed the badly damaged organ so tightly that Harry had to repair the lung as he simultaneously tried to remove the curse in his patient's chest. Considering that the wizard with the cursed lung wasn't his only new patient, it had been a long night for Harry.

Knowing that it was futile to stubbornly keep his eyes shut, Harry sighed as he dropped an arm over his face, to protect himself from the sun, and let his mind and body shake off the rest of his sleepy state. As he did the events of yesterday flashed before his eyes and his new reality truly hit him; he'd travelled to another dimension, got caught up in an attack on Diagon Alley, was kidnapped and interrogated before meeting the doubles of those who died many years ago. Once he'd wallowed enough Harry dramatically threw his arm to his side and dragged himself out of bed. He wasn't sure exactly how he ended up in one of the spare beds near the Hospital Wing's doors, he assumed it was Dobby, but he was grateful as he was certain sleeping on the stone floor would've been horrible.

As the only healer for a room full of people, Harry stretched out his aching limbs ready for a long day. He hoped to get around to all his patients as soon as possible as he wanted to shower and dress before heading down to breakfast, and they would hopefully only need a check-up to see how they went throughout the night; thankfully none of which had triggered his monitoring spells. With one last moment to rub his eyes and yawn, Harry took his glasses from the bedside table and started work. Knowing that pretty much everyone under his care were under powerful stasis charms, and weren’t in danger at the moment, Harry headed to the first bed. The Madam Pomfrey he knew was a caring witch with a strong character and a protective streak a mile wide. The Madam Pomfrey he knew was so clearly suited for her role as a mediwitch but Harry doubted this version shared many similarities; her grey hair was cut very short and had been scorched in places, she had a slight hunch in her back and her skin was drier than parchment.

Harry looked down at the witch, who looked more like the sister to the Hogwarts’ mediwitch of his world than her double, and shook his head sadly at her state. A large majority of the bones in her body were very poorly healed causing them to be brittle and deformed, there was a large angry burn that circled her neck and a cursed gash on her cheek. Even with all that the reason for her current state could be boiled down to one thing - poison.

Yesterday Harry had first thought that maybe she’d been scratched by one of the poison laced daggers in the folds of her robes but after testing them it didn’t fit; the poison on her daggers was Baneberry Poison, a toxin with a tell-tale berry aroma and known for its fast acting and deadly efficiency. The fact she was alive proved she was exposed to something else but Harry was at a loss as the poison didn't seem to fit any poison he'd come across. Going on instinct he'd sent Dobby down to the Potion storeroom in the dungeons last night for a bezoar. He'd given it to her straight away before placing numerous monitoring charms on her and moving on to the next patient. Today he was eager to see how she was progressing. First he removed the monitoring and the immobulus charms, before testing her for contaminants and was pleased by her results. The poison, whatever it was, was completely gone from her system. He had expected it of course as the bezoar was well known for removing poisons, but it wasn’t one hundred percent effective against powerful or rare toxins – they’d gotten lucky.

Wanting her to keep resting for a while Harry placed a sleeping charm on her just as a familiar house elf appeared next to him.

“Good mornings, Harry.” Dobby beamed up at him. “Did Great Harry sleep well?”

Harry sighed realising that while he made a step away from being ‘Master Harry’ he hadn’t completely avoided a designation from the small elf. “Good morning. I slept alright thanks and by the way - it’s just Harry, Dobby.”

Dobby opened his mouth to reply but a low rumbling sound from Harry’s midsection completely derailed the elf’s focus.

“Is Harry hungry? Dobby bes taking Harry to the Great Hall for breakfast.” Dobby stated as he barrelled on without waiting for an answer.

Harry blushed as Dobby started praising breakfast as the most important meal for wizards. While he wanted to finish checking on his patients, not feeling very confident in the statis charms placed by unknown wizards and witches, Harry couldn’t deny that he was starving. The last time he could remember eating anything was well over twenty-four hours ago having been too excited and busy packing for his new life. Making his decision Harry agreed but insisted on finishing his rounds and having a shower before heading out for breakfast. Dobby had agreed and within thirty minutes, and placing a powerful monitoring spell over the massive chamber, Harry had let letting Dobby drag him away.

They’d not gotten far when Harry asked Dobby if he could give him a tour around the castle. He’d already come across quite a few changes from the world he knew and wondered how much of his home, Hogwarts itself, had changed. Taking the long way to the Great Hall Dobby eagerly played tour guide and showed Harry around. Surprisingly, despite everything so far, Hogwarts was pretty much exactly as he remembered; the first floor was still designated for Transfiguration, the dungeons still held that familiar damp odour that seemed to seep from the stones themselves, the staircases moved of their own accord and the Great Hall was as enchanted and majestic as ever. Harry had even caught Peeves’ loud cackle as they checked out the second floor but had been lucky not to run into the troublesome poltergeist.

After the short tour and a breakfast alone in the Great Hall, Dobby escorted Harry back to the Hospital Wing. Harry was surprised that even though they’d been walking around the castle for a while now they’d not run into one person; there hadn’t even been anyone in the Great Hall for breakfast. Granted they hadn’t gone to every corner, or even floor, in the castle but it was still surprising. A part of him suspected that the elf skipping merrily next to him might have had something to do with it but Harry couldn’t help but be pleased by the results. 

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to meet anyone of this world, or knew that he’d have to bump into a few he’d known at least, but actually being here and meeting them was more emotionally draining than he thought it would be. However, as they turned the corner near the Hospital Wing Harry knew his time alone was at an end.

There standing at the doors to the Hospital Wing were two wizards and a witch muttering to each other as they banged on his door with wild abandon. As he’d yet to be seen by the trio Harry took this moment to seize them up. The first wizard clearly had a receding hairline and was rather lanky in a plaid sweater and brown trousers. The witch however had a heart-shaped face and was easily a head shorter than her companions. There was something about the two that screamed familiar but Harry couldn’t put his finger on it.

Then there was their friend. He was tall with wavy blonde hair, a broad back and was obviously not a fighter for the Order or an auror in the Ministry of Magic. While the first two, who were both now knocking furiously on the door, were wearing thick red battle robes over their muggle clothes, this guy looked to be wearing bright yellow robes that were so thin that they were moving around in a non-existent breeze.

Out of all the people he knew he’d run into again in this dimension this yellow clad prat wasn’t even in the top fifty. Harry watched in shock as the man stood a foot back from the other two and started making suggestions on how they should get in. 

As much as he would love to get Dobby to somehow magically transport him back to the Hospital Wing, he knew he’d just be putting off the inevitable. Besides, if he could face Voldemort and his gang of fools then he could deal with this.

Pulling himself together Harry moved forwards and strode confidently towards the Hospital Wing. 

“…hit harder, Frank!” The yellow-clad man suggested. “It is a shame I left my wand in my office or I would’ve been able to take down these security measures. After all, if I was able to break into Lestrange Tower when I was fifteen, facing a horde of inferi and Deatheaters with only a borrowed wand - I would be able to undo these plebeian wards.” 

Now that he was standing directly behind the group Harry coughed loudly and instantly captured the group’s attention. 

“Can I help you?” Harry asked politely. 

“Ah…I think it is us who can help you.” The pompous man declared as ‘Frank’ and the witch abandoned the Hospital Wing door and walked slowly towards him with their mouths agape.

“You look just like…I mean…A-are you Peverell? The Healer?” Frank asked as they stopped just in front of the other wizard who huffed at being so blatantly ignored.

Not know exactly who this Frank thought he looked like, Harry pushed it aside. “I am and who are you?”

“My name is Frank Longbottom and this is my wife Alice.” He answered mentally throwing Harry back to his first visit to St Mungos. 

During Harry’s fifth year when Mr Weasley had been recovering from an attack by Nagini at St Mungos, Harry had come across Neville and his Grandmother visiting his parents – Frank and Alice Longbottom. Back in his world they were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and three of her fellow Deatheaters until something in them broke and they became permanently insane. Apparently in this world they avoided such a fate and Harry couldn’t help but smile at the pair and take a better look at the parents of one of his dearest friends.

Neville had clearly gotten his height and shoulders from his father but the rest of him screamed Alice Longbottom; they both had the same face, chin and eye color. As nice as it was seeing the Longbottoms alive and well Harry’s heart broke a little for his friend at never getting the chance to see them like this. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Harry honestly said holding his hand out in an effort to shake their hands but was blocked by their friend. He pushed through the middle of the couple and planted himself less than an arms breadth from Harry, so close was he that Harry coughed as he was suddenly assaulted by the man’s powerful cologne.

“And _I_ am, of course, _the_ Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Merlin Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and, of course, the most prestigious Potions Master in Britain.” He declared pompously puffing out his chest like a peacock as his eyes roamed Harry’s shorter form. “Are you sure you’re this Peverell, the Healer, everyone’s talking about?”

It was actually an unsettling thing to realise that Gilderoy Lockhart was a Potions Master. If the Snape he knew was here with him now, he was certain that the ex-Deatheater would skin the egocentric blonde for having the audacity to even imply being a Potions Master. 

“I’m fairly certain I know my own name, Mr Lockhart, and as for knowing if I’m _the_ Healer that everyone’s talking about – how would I know?” Harry bit back.

Lockhart just chuckled at his reply as though Harry’s tone wasn’t carved from ice. “Of course, lad, of course. I’m sure it’ll do us good to have our own little Healer. Why one time when I was travelling through India on the lookout for Occamy eggs for my world famous ‘Occamy Egg Yolk Shampoo’ I…”

‘To think today had started off so good.’ Harry thought sadly to himself as he sighed and got on with the inevitable. “What do you want, Lockhart?”

“…the gash was gushing blood…what…oh, yes…well after hearing that we now have a Healer in our midst I thought I should come up to introduce myself and offer my services.”

Harry cringed at the offer as his mind screamed expletives. He knew that it wasn’t exactly fair to make assumptions about these people based on their counterparts in his home world but it wasn’t easy; a task made all the more impossible in this situation as it appears that every Gilderoy Lockhart, no matter the dimension, is a selfish prat.

“Thank you very much for your offer, Mr Lockhart.” Harry forced himself to say. “But I don’t need a Potions Master to help me with treatments.”

“Oh?” Lockhart asked as a look of confusion passed over his glossy face. “I must apologise, I just assumed that you needed help as you had to send your house elf down to my personal stores for a bezoar yesterday. If dealing with basic poisons can be difficult for you…”

Harry grew furious at Lockhart’s attempts to undermine his credibility as a Healer, actually having the gall to use a patient’s wellbeing against him. Not to mention his blatant glancing back at the Longbottoms to make sure they were witnessing everything, who were now looking a little uneasy, had pushed Harry to the edge.

“Mr Lockhart, as you obviously know I’ve only just arrived and, naturally, I don’t have any resources in which to treat my numerous patients. However, as I knew that any decent Potions Master wouldn’t mind me having a bezoar to save someone’s life, I sent Dobby down for it. But, let me assure you, Mr Lockhart, that I’ll have my potions stores back up to scratch in no time.” Harry said as innocently as possible while knowing that certain parts might’ve sounded sarcastic. “Now, if that is all you wanted I believe the Longbottoms wanted to discuss something with me.”

A faint pink blush rose on Lockhart’s cheekbones as he swiftly pulled himself together and closed his shocked gob. “Of course. I’m sure that my dear personal friends have many things to discuss. My offer still stands, my boy. Good day.”

As Gilderoy Lockhart strode away in a flurry of expensive golden robes Harry smirked seeing both Longbottoms flinch at Lockhart’s description of being their close personal friend. Once Lockhart was out of sight Harry turned to the couple. 

“How can I help you?” Harry repeated looking between the torn faces of the two Longbottoms.

Frank looked a little uneasily at his wife before receiving a gentle nudge of encouragement. “You see…Healer Peverell…we need your help. Our Neville was attacked about a month ago and it…we don’t know what’s wrong. Albus has even had a look but he is at a loss to what has happened.”

“He’s only in his twenties.” Alice added on softly as large tears welled up in her blue eyes. “He’s meant to have his whole life ahead of him.”

Harry had heard such words many times over the years from friends and families of those in perilous situations. At the end of the war Harry had gone to speak with the families of all the friends he lost. Thankfully they’d not blamed him in the slightest but all had echoed those same saddened words. 

Dragging himself away from the certain spiral those thoughts usually sent him down, Harry refocused on the couple before him and pulled his Healer professionalism over his eyes; these weren’t the parents of Neville’s double but just two concerned people in need of a Healer.

“Take me to him.”

Albus Dumbledore

Albus stood by the window near his desk and gazed out over the Hogwarts’ grounds, watching the sunrise throw warm yellows and reds into the sky. For over a decade it had become a bit of a tradition for him to watch the sunrise every morning as it had been one of the few pleasures he had left in life; watching a new dawn was somehow therapeutic and watching the bright light of the sun chase away the shadows somehow gave him hope and strength to deal with another day of war. 

Last night Albus had reviewed many of his plans, security measures and goals in light of their new discovery. A Healer. A real Healer was found in the middle of a fight in Diagon Alley and was now saving lives of Order members and their allies. Albus knew that they had a long way to go to gain his trust and allegiance but knew they could do it – they had to. He only wished that some were taking that responsibility more to heart.

Flashback

_The surprise meeting with the Potters, Longbottoms, Black, Lupin and Diggle went longer than he suspected as the group brain stormed ideas to make Peverell feel more welcome in the Order and at Hogwarts itself. Many of their ideas were put into motion, except Sirius’ idea of finding a romantic love interest for Peverell for more ‘fun’ activities, and Albus was pleased that at least seven of his most senior Order members were invested. They were going to find a way of expanding the Hospital Wing so Peverell could work, the Potters were going to try and befriend him while Lupin and Diggle were going to try and find supplies for him. It wasn't going to get Peverell on side straight away but hopefully feeling more of a connection to the Order and improving his living and working conditions might be a good start in getting their Healer on their side._

_Albus barely had fifteen minutes alone after the last of his Order members left when his office door was blown off its hinges and flew to the ground with a loud crash. Having already been notified of who was storming up to his office by the stone guardian near the outside staircase Albus didn’t bother drawing his wand. Instead he sat patiently behind his desk as a steamed Alastor Moody entered his office._

_“Alastor, if you don’t stop destroying my door I’ll have to start charging you for the inconvenience.” He said calmly as Alastor moved swiftly over to his desk and started pacing sending loud clomping sounds throughout the spacious office. “What can I do for you, Alastor? I assume you’re here to tell me more than just the success of the rescue?”_

_Alastor abruptly stopped his marching to whirl around and glare at Albus but after opening and closing his mouth a few times, and his face to grow redder and redder, he turned back to his pacing._

_Albus sighed having gotten used to Moody’s moods over the years of working closely with the man, knowing from experience that he wouldn’t be able get a word out until he’d calmed down a bit; being a wizard of action Moody preferred to use his wand than his mouth to dispatch his foes._

_“Did the Ministry cause any issues in Diagon Alley?” Albus tried but when Moody didn’t even bother looking up at him he moved onto another guess._

_“Were you able to find our injured Order members?”_

_Again no acknowledgement so Albus tried again. “Was it Peverell?”_

_Faster than a charmed bludger Alastor had removed his wand from his pocket and jabbed it at the bookcase near the front door. Whatever spell he used sent a bright red beam of light from his wand and completely disintegrated the bookshelf sending over twenty of Albus’ trinkets cascading to the ground in a loud bang._

_“I’ll take that as a yes.” Albus muttered as Alastor turned his head away from his target and back to him._

_“That…_ bastard… _has taken my wife hostage!”_

_Albus raised an amused eyebrow at Alastor’s declaration. “I thought Poppy was still on her mission to bring in Theodore Jugson.”_

_“I caught her in the tower just returning from it and she insisted she come to help bring our people back.”_

_He listened quietly as Alastor told him about the rescue mission. Apparently, the Ministry of Magic were still cleaning up from the skirmish when they arrived and, while they’d managed to extract everyone hidden in the abandoned shop, there was an accident. The Deatheaters had left numerous unknown potions hidden throughout Diagon Alley as traps and one of the Ministry workers had accidently tripped them causing a chain reaction that ignited all the potions and sent emerald green gas into the air. They’d managed to escape and protect their unconscious charges but Poppy had been exposed._

_He wasn’t impressed when Alastor explained their attempted takeover of the Hospital Wing but hearing that Peverell took charge and referred to the Hospital Wing as his, spoke highly of his acceptance as their healer; even if only subconsciously._

_“…then he got that blasted house elf to send us all out on our asses. I don’t know what that elf did but I tried everything; blasting curses, the bloody disintegration curse, expulso, Fiendfyre and…nothing!”_

_Albus frowned at the ignorant wizard before him barely holding back from giving him a piece of his mind. To use deadly spells in a school, regardless of the time of year, was completely unjustified. He decided to bide his time knowing that anything he’d say would be completely ignored by the single-minded wizard._

_He’d been getting rather worried about Alastor recently as his daughter’s status in the Hospital Wing seemed to unhinge something in him. The increased violence and determination had certainly helped many dangerous situations turn in their favour so Albus hadn’t bothered speaking to the man. Yet, now that his wife was also in the Hospital Wing, along with a Healer that Alastor didn’t trust, he’d have to do something._

_“Dobby!”_

_Instantly the small elf appeared to his left and Albus could only blink owlishly at his sudden change. Gone was the white pillowcase and in its place was a miniature suit of armor complete with helmet._

_“Err…Dobby?” Albus asked noticing even Alastor had stopped his pacing to stare at the elf._

_“Yes, Master Dumblydore?”_

_“…what are you wearing?”_

_“Dobby bes protector of Great Harry and Hospital.” The elf declared proudly._

_Albus had a bit of trouble hearing Dobby as his helmet was slightly muffling his voice, but from the snort of anger from the other side of his desk he is assuming that Alastor probably heard enough as well. He wasn’t sure but somehow all these events in the last twenty four hours could all be boiled down to one person, Harry Peverell, and Albus was wondering if he should get a permanent supply of something to treat his future headaches._

End Flashback

Dobby had refused to let Alastor into the Hospital Wing citing that he was a ‘naughty wizard’ before returning to Harry to help clean up the Hospital Wing. Despite how many changes were happening already Albus knew that it was only the beginning.

He had received an owl late last night from Amelia requesting a meeting first thing today. Such a request would be part of the norm as Amelia often met with him in her dual roles as a member of the Order and as Head of the Department of Law Enforcement. However, the professional and clipped tone warned Albus of a difficult morning ahead.

Not knowing the exact time for this meeting, Albus had his breakfast delivered to his office and spent a relaxing hour reviewing reports from his network of spies. He was just finishing up reading a rather positive statement from Regulus Black regarding his post in the Department of Mysteries when his fireplace roared with green fire. 

With the speed belying his old age Albus had hidden all of the sensitive information around his office with a casual wave of his hand before anyone climbed out of his stone fireplace. Despite the numerous charms and protections around his fireplace, and Hogwarts itself, Albus kept his hand in his robe pocket tightly wrapped around his wand. 

However as a familiar tall brunette stepped out of the fireplace Albus’ hands slightly relaxed.

“Ah, Amelia, right on time and I see you’ve brought some friends along with you.” Albus said pleasantly as the fireplace flared to life again. 

Albus watched in resignation as his fireplace was turned into a turnstile as his long-time friend sent him looks of sympathy. First was a wizard in cobalt robes and a mane of greying tawny hair, then came a hunched wispy witch clad in loose lilac robes with more in common with a prune than a witch and finally was a young wizard with a light brown hair and murky brown eyes.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” Albus declared as the fireplace turned inert signalling it had completed its task. “Perhaps, Amelia, you would be kind enough to introduce your friends before we sit down for this meeting.”

“Certainly, Albus.” Amelia started taking a step forward from her previous position against the wall. 

Albus nodded his thanks but had only requested it as a formality. Being Headmaster of Hogwarts for multiple decades meant that he was familiar with them all from their time at Hogwarts. The witch was Mafalda Hopkirk an ex-Ravenclaw student of average ability who favoured books over people. Unfortunately, she’d been the victim of a curse that affected her spine, yanking it up several notches and giving her a slight hunched appearance.

The youth was a recently graduated Slytherin by the name of Graham Pritchard. He was a very average student as far as Albus could recall but his passion for Defence Against the Dark Arts obviously paid off as Albus assumed he was there as security. Finally there was the lion – Rufus Scrimgeour.

“May I introduce Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour, Senior Undersecretary Hopkirk to the Minister for Magic and Auror Pritchard.” She said gesturing to each of the people one by one.

After exchanging pleasantries with everyone, and personally conjuring four plain wooden chairs, Albus took a seat behind his desk and asked his guests to get comfortable. 

“So what can I do for the Ministry of Magic today?”

“I hear that you’ve acquired a Healer, Dumbledore.” Scrimgeour replied cutting to the chase.

Rufus Scrimgeour had been Minister of Magic for six years now and since then had taken a very strict, no-nonsense approach to the war with Voldemort. Many in the wizarding world, and the international community, approved of his abrupt personality but having to work with the man as the leader of the Order of the Phoenix was very draining.

“I’m sure you have.” Albus replied smiling innocently as the Minister’s yellowish eyes twitched at the lack of information.

“Well…where is he?” He growled. “As the only British Healer he has a duty to more than just your Order.”

Albus had been expecting this although the speed it took Scrimgeour to leap into action had surprised him; he suspected that Amelia’s earlier guilty and sympathetic look was more than for this surprise ambush. 

“How true.” Albus agreed. “But you do realise that we’re not keeping him prisoner. He hasn’t even been here twenty-four hours yet and has spent what little time he’s been awake looking after our injured. Your intensions to restart St. Mungos have little to do with me.”

Scrimgeour’s eyes flashed as he glared briefly at Amelia on his left before his head snapped back to Albus.

“Don’t be like that, Scrimgeour.” Albus chuckled lightly, flashing his blue eyes over the rims of his glasses. “I’ve known for a while that you’re trying to get your _mediwizards_ and _mediwitches_ trained up in the hopes of reopening the facility to the public. I’m sure that people will be more pleased with your role as Minister if you can deliver it.”

“This is more than trying to stay as Minister, _Dumbledore!_ ” Scrimgeour shouted flying out of his chair. “This is about protecting the public! They deserve to be healed and treated properly. After each bloody attack by that monster we help who we can but many are left to their own devices. Some even head out to the muggle world for treatment!”

Albus hummed in agreement. The Daily Prophet had a field day about three months ago when they reported six cases of magical families turning to a nearby muggle doctor. Albus knew that Scrimgeour had been planning this move for much longer and was a decent strategic thinker but the man wasn’t entirely the noble warrior he painted himself as.

According to his sources in the Ministry of Magic, Scrimgeour wanted to stay in power until he had defeated Voldemort and saved Britain. He believed, sometimes openly, that he was the only choice for Minister as any other candidate would either be too weak, corrupt or stupid to do what needed to be done. Last year he even arrested one of his rivals on a trivial technicality but it had been enough to sway people away from the idea of Minister Amos Diggory once he was released a day later.

“Please take a seat, Minister.” Albus said gesturing to the vacant seat directly behind the fuming wizard. 

It took a moment, and the hand of Amelia, to get the stubborn wizard to retake his seat. “What can you tell us about the Healer, Albus?”

Albus smiled at Amelia. “His name is Harry Peverell and is a Healer.”

“That it?” Scrimgeour scoffed. “Have you at least tested him? Ensured he isn’t a Deatheater? Do you know for a fact that he is a Healer and not some wannabe trying to make a name for himself?”

“We have tested him, Scrimgeour, and he certainly isn’t a Deatheater in disguise nor do I believe him to be a threat to anyone. I have seen him work and I have been impressed...speaking of, Amelia…” Albus said turning to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. “I believe we will have to sit down and review our standard operating procedures.”

Amelia sat up straighter in her chair and blinked at him in surprise. “Why would we do that?” 

“When I was testing Peverell he informed me of how damaging the Reparo Charm can be when used on a living creature.”

“What’s wrong with the healing charm?”

Albus smiled at the inquisitive Slytherin as the youth started cowering in his seat at the dark look on Scrimgeour’s face, but Albus fell easily into the role of a teacher. “That is actually a misnomer, Mr Pritchard. I know that the Auror Academy refers to the Reparo Charm as such, as do my own cadets and agents, but it’s actually called the repairing charm.”

Pritchard just nodded his head quickly in understanding as Albus took pity on the lad and turned his attention to the keen look in Scrimgeour’s eyes. “According to Mr Peverell the charm when used on a living person forces together damaged tissue and the like very roughly without actually healing anything. Apparently this weakens the area and leaves it prone to injury and scarring.”

For the first time in months Amelia gave Albus a smile, small as it may’ve been. It was one thing to know that a Healer was actually in Britain but it was another to see the wave of change that one person could make.

“I’ll put it into action straight away. Perhaps we should sit down with him and discuss…”

“Dumbledore, enough of your stalling!” Scrimgeour barked. “Get me this Mr Peverell. He has been at Hogwarts and helped _your lot_ enough! He has a duty to the entire wizarding world.”

Albus rolled his eyes at the Minister realising that this was going to be a long meeting.

Harry Potter 

Harry followed Frank and Alice Longbottom up to the seventh floor and smiled at the numerous recognisable sights as they passed. The pair were meant to be taking him to Neville Longbottom for treatment and judging from where they were heading Harry was about to be reintroduced to Gryffindor Tower. Not having had time during his tour with Dobby Harry was glad that he was likely to be getting a closer look at the Gryffindor Common Room once again.

Having not encountered many changes with the school itself in this world Harry was startled when they reached the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. Instead of the Fat Lady guarding the entrance there was an elderly witch with more wrinkles than stars in the night sky who flashed them wide smile in pristine navy robes. Harry couldn’t help but do a double take as he witnessed them approach the portrait as though nothing were odd. 

“Umm…where are we?”

Alice turned and gave him a small smile. “This is the home of the Order of the Phoenix. Our home away from home. Currently only nine people are actually here at the Tower.”

“The Order lives in Hogwarts?” Harry asked as his earlier happiness fled his body and his hands grew sweaty at the thought of stumbling across his parents, Sirius or Remus.

“Not all of us.” Frank corrected shaking his head. “Primarily the senior members of the Order or key figures in the war. The rest are safe behind the walls of safe houses or strongholds.”

Harry swallowed nervously and nodded his head as Frank gave the password and led them inside. The Gryffindor Tower that Harry knew had stuffed armchairs, a roaring fire, tapestries of heroic battles covering the walls and was completely decked out in reds and golds. However, someone had destroyed the Gryffindor ambiance by placing a green recliner and a blue love seat in front of the currently doused fireplace, the tapestries had been replaced with a variety of bloody weaponry and there was a large cauldron at the back of the room bubbling away happily.

“This way, Healer Peverell.” Alice said drawing Harry away from staring around the room like an idiot and over to the staircase to the right of the cauldron.

Harry followed her request and ascended the staircase with Frank and Alice only to be directed to the first door.

Shaking himself out of his distracted thoughts, Harry braced himself. He was about to come face to face with a close friend’s double. A double who was injured or hurt in some fashion. Feeling his Healer mindset settle Harry pushed the wood of the door open and strode inside. 

Inside the room was a small, makeshift Hospital Wing with four beds each with a frozen patient laying on their surfaces. The first two beds had girls, twins by the looks of it, covered in large angry scratches and their faces were frozen into matching grimaces. The next bed held what was left of Seamus Finnigan who was still covered in blood and was missing his right arm, his left leg, several fingers and had a smattering of gashes on his chest. Then the last bed was Neville. 

Like the others he was completely still but looked like a corpse with his ashen skin and all of the veins in his body were grey and protruding out of his skin. Harry blanched at the sight of his friend. He’d seen this before thanks to the warped mind of Bellatrix Lestrange and it always made him equally angry and disgusted. 

“What is this? Why aren’t these people down in the Hospital Wing?”

“It was too cramped in there.” Frank said as he and his wife went straight to Neville’s bedside. “Even with Albus magically expanding it we just have too many injured or sick.”

Harry had little doubt of that as having to squeeze in between beds to diagnosis patients made him feel bigger than his whale of an Uncle. “But why keep them in here? Surely you could’ve setup another Hospital Wing somewhere else in the castle. I mean a bedroom is hardly appropriate.”

Alice turned to face Harry and gave him a sad smile. “Everyone in this room are the children of Order members. It may be small but it keeps them close.”

‘…and away from anymore perceived dangers.’ Harry mentally continued. ‘It was their guilt for not protecting their children that put them in here. Space was an issue in the Hospital Wing but not to this extent.’

“Can you help us?” Frank asked softly moving away from Neville’s side to stare hopelessly at Harry.

Looking between the two parents, and Neville’s bleak condition, Harry could only offer an encouraging smile and promise to do what he could. Needing some space to work and think things through Harry asked both parents to wait outside while he examined and treated Neville. Both were clearly hesitant but the prospect of a cure clearly had them beat, as the two shuffled from the room looking back at Neville helplessly every few steps.

Once the door had closed behind them Harry took out his wand and magically locked and sealed the door so he wouldn’t be interrupted. 

Feeling fairly confident that people wouldn’t be barging in Harry got to work examining all of his new patients. It hadn’t taken much to discover that the two twins had been attacked by a werewolf but instead of treating the wound someone had just frozen them with the damn stasis spell. Seamus on the other hand had been unlucky enough to be caught by a low powered cutting charm to the chest and had lost his limbs via splinching – perhaps trying to escape his attacker. Then there was Neville.

_“Egritudo.”_

Harry cast the diagnosis charm over Neville and gasped at the results. At first the charm was slow acting, as though something were fighting its effects, but after a minute of waiting Neville’s heart and veins all slowly glowed blood red before fading away.

“Shit.” Harry whispered.

He’d seen a similar reaction to a curse back in his home world. The curse attacked the heart directly and tainted it, and therefore all the blood in the body, with what was referred to by his mentor as liquid cruciatus curse. However, that wasn’t the worse part. The side effect of such a curse being exposed directly to such a delicate part of the body, like the veins and heart, had a decaying effect on them; the longer it was left to fester in the body the worse it was for the patient. After being exposed for a month, despite the stasis charm, Harry didn’t know how much longer Neville could last without irreversible damage.

Albus Dumbledore

Albus ran down the seventh floor corridor letting his robes blow behind him as he continued his pace. During his meeting with the Minister he was informed by one of the portraits in his office that the Longbottoms had taken Peverell into Phoenix Tower. While he wanted to make him feel a part of the team, bringing him into their sanctuary so quickly was dangerous; if they were unsuccessful and he escaped he would have inside knowledge of not only the castle but the home for many Order members. He couldn’t believe that Frank and Alice could be so reckless. 

Reaching the portrait he screeched to a halt.

“Good day, Headmaster.” The witch guard said warmly.

“N-not now, Ignatia.” Albus replied puffed trying to straightening himself up in order to make an impression on his wayward agents. “Sacrifice.”

The second the way was revealed Albus headed into the Common Room to see both Frank and Alice sitting huddled together on the loveseat. At his entrance both flew from their seats with panic written on their faces.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Albus asked ensuring that disappointment hung from every word as he warped his face into grandfatherly dissatisfaction. 

“Doing, Albus?” Frank inquired trying to feign innocence but Albus could see the man was practically sweating and the hitch in his voice wasn’t helping his plight.

“Yes…doing. I already know that you’ve brought Harry Peverell here against my wishes. You both know that _only_ Order members and their families may be granted entry to this tower. Yet you defied this order. I suppose I can safely assume he is with Neville as we speak?”

At his words both Longbottoms’ had lost their nervous air knowing they’d been caught but surprisingly they weren’t cowing before him as expected; Frank had gone white but his jaw was set and his wand was in his hand, and while Alice had drawn hers it was the unrelenting fury and fire that was burning in her eyes that made even him uneasy.

“You tell us that there is nothing we can do for Neville. That his case is hopeless.” Alice cried stepping forward from her husband’s side. “Then we hear that there is a Healer in the castle that could save him and you expect us to…what?”

Albus was slightly taken aback by the anger from the usually stoic witch. Sure he knew that she was formidable in a duel and vicious against their foes but this was the first time that she’d turned that rage against someone in the Order.

Wanting to calm things down Albus sighed and put on an understanding smile. “I understand that you are concerned for Neville, Alice. We all are. But Peverell is still largely unknown and inviting someone with so many secrets into our home is dangerous. We have a plan…”

“ _Your_ plan...” Alice spat angrily pointing a finger at Albus as tears started welling up in her eyes and her wand started sparking angrily. “…is to let Neville die. How long will you make us wait before Neville can finally see a Healer? You haven’t sat by his bedside and watched him deteriorate. Did you know that despite your stasis charm he’s grown paler and his eyes are so glassy…?”

Albus’ heart went out to the mother as her tears overwhelmed her and Frank stepped forward to wrap his arms around her comfortingly. 

“All we are asking for, Albus, is a chance to save our son.”

He nodded understanding their pain but he would not risk it. They’ve survived the war so far, even turning the tides against Voldemort on occasion, by not taking risks and outsmarting their enemies. Albus couldn’t deny that Peverell was their savior but until he was completely on their side and his secrets were revealed it was too dangerous.

Feeling his guilt rise up to strangle him Albus pushed it away and rose a hand instantly freezing the two pleading parents. 

“I’m sorry.”

Moving around the two Albus headed upstairs and straight for the first door knowing that Alice and Frank would’ve definitely taken him there first. He reached for the handle only for a powerful silvery shield to erupt over the door blocking his entry. Albus blinked in confusion before taking out his wand and casting several charms at the door. Sensing it was now safe to proceed he pushed open the door. Truthfully he’d not been in this room for weeks, letting his Order members look after their children, but he was stunned by what he saw.

The two Black sisters were awake sitting on the end of their bed laughing with Dobby who was telling them some kind of story, Finnigan was awake and talking with Peverell with his cuts all cleared but the Longbottom heir was the real surprise. The waxy grey of his skin had cleared, there was noticeable color in his face and his veins had receded a bit back into his body.

“Dumbledore.” Peverell said moving away from Finnigan. “What can I do for you?”

Albus was stunned looking around at the group of people he had condemned as incurable. Hearing his name again Albus could only smile warmly at their savior. Despite his original intentions of coming in to stop Peverell, he was pleased that his original feeling of the Healer was spot on.

“Sorry, I was just coming in to check on you. I must say I’m more than impressed. Do you mind…?” 

Sensing what Albus was really asking Peverell just shrugged.

“The twins’ only injuries were from being scratched by a werewolf so it was fairly simple to clear up.” He said smiling at the two youths who beamed back at him.

“You mean they weren’t cursed?”

Peverell cocked his head to the side in confusion. “With what? Lycanthropy? No of course not. In order to be properly turned by a werewolf you must be bitten.”

“But…” Albus started before he was cut off.

“I can assure you, Dumbledore, that the _only_ way to be turned by a werewolf is to be bitten. I’ve tested both of them and they’re both clean for the curse. Although…it’s possible they might develop some unusual side effects from being scratched.”

“Like what?” He asked feeling his academic curiosity take over. Albus had always been an academic, even from childhood, he’d always strived for knowledge and Peverell was a fountain of knowledge in a field of magic that had always been kept from him. 

“I had a friend once who was scratched by a werewolf and while he wasn’t contaminated he did get moody around the full moon and liked his steak rare.” He admitted casually. “It’s unusual but it’s possible that the twins could develop similar tendencies.”

“And what about…”

_Knock Knock_

Albus paused to see Amelia pushing into the room behind him looking rather flustered. “I’m sorry, Albus, but I held him back as long as I could. He’s waiting outside and you’d better come out to deal with him.”

Seeing the confusion on Peverell’s face Albus knew he would have questions and didn’t like the idea of sending him to face Scrimgeour unprepared.

“Amelia, please go and watch him for me. I’ll brief Peverell and be out shortly.”

“Of course, Albus.” She replied before giving their Healer one last look before jogging out of the room.

“I’m afraid that Minister Scrimgeour is here to see you, Harry.” Albus said turning to look Peverell in the eye. “He’s…annoyed that you’ve been healing here at Hogwarts and wanted to discuss it with us. In fact I believe he thinks you’ve spent too much time here helping us.”

Peverell frowned. “I’ve only just got here.”

Albus smiled at the indignation in the Healer’s voice. “True, but to be honest the Minister doesn’t particularly like the Order of the Phoenix, so the idea that we have a Healer and he doesn’t fuels his anger even more. It is probably why he didn’t waste any time before coming here because, as you just said, you’ve only just got here.” 

Knowing that Amelia couldn’t keep Scrimgeour at bay forever, Albus stood in the doorway with his hand out gesturing for Peverell to follow him. He could tell that Peverell was reluctant but after a moment, and making sure to give instructions to Dobby, he followed Albus out the door and into the Common Room. 

“Why does Scrimgeour hate the Order so much?”

“Jealously.” Albus sighed. “The Order of the Phoenix has been a part of our society for over a hundred years, originally setup by my parents – Kendra and Percival Dumbledore. It is our job to be on the front lines fighting dark wizards, like Voldemort and his Deatheaters, conducting raids and undergoing missions to protect the country. It has made us rather popular. While it’s the Ministry and it’s aurors who serve and protect the public from other criminal’s acts.”

Albus could see that his words had struck Peverell harder than he thought they would as he looked at him in shock before turning away and biting his lip. Leaving the Healer to his thoughts he silently continued to guide Peverell through the Common Room, completely ignoring the indignant look on his face at seeing Frank and Alice frozen, and pushed on the portrait.

Harry Potter

Harry was having trouble processing Dumbledore’s words having been operating that the Order was a vigilante group like in his world. It made sense given the war torn world he had found himself in but it was still surprising; so many of the difficulties he and the Order faced in his world could’ve been stopped if people had more faith in them, had known the truth or had stayed out of the way. 

He glared darkly at the Headmaster as they passed Alice and Frank but before he could open his mouth to object to their treatment Dumbledore had already pushed on the portrait and escaped out into the corridor. Doubting he would be able to remove the charm on the Longbottoms, Harry followed after him and braced himself to meet the Minister.

Despite only being a few steps behind Dumbledore Harry stepped out into the corridor amidst an already heated argument. On one side was a calm and collected Dumbledore with a red-faced brunette by his side, Amelia if he remembered correctly from their interaction mere moments ago, and on the other was the supposed Minister Scrimgeour, a youth and a unknown woman.

“You expect me to let him stay here…with you people!” Scrimgeour spat glaring at Dumbledore.

Amelia bristled at the tone. “And what does that mean, Minister? _‘you people’?_ Did you forget that your Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is ‘you people’.”

“It means that, certain people exempted, Amelia…” He said back peddling slightly as he looked briefly to the brunette before swinging back to look at Dumbledore. “…the Order of the Phoenix is overstepping their bounds and their agreement with the Ministry.”

“Oh?” Dumbledore asked politely. “What makes you say that Scrimgeour? We follow through on every lead given to us by the Ministry, we deliver all confiscated item and we defer and share all information with the Ministry. I’ve even followed your newest rule to never step foot in the Ministry of Magic without written permission from you or your office.”

Tired of the rubbish being thrown between the two groups, and having a feeling that things would only grow more heated, Harry lifted his wand and set off a small ‘bang’ to silence the group.

“Perhaps this pissing contest can happen in more private chambers when I’m not waiting around.” Harry suggested ignoring the bewildered expression on the Minister. “I do have patients that need my attention more than this little discussion.”

Harry may’ve not known Scrimgeour in this world but he seemed to be physically identical the lion-like wizard he knew, right down to his mane and golden eyes, and seemed to have the accompanying personality. Unfortunately for the Minister it didn’t endear him to Harry whatsoever as the man had tried to force Harry into siding with the Ministry and become their poster boy.

“You…you’re the Healer?” He asked patronisingly. 

It wasn’t the first time that Harry had been underestimated in this world and, besides knowing it wouldn’t be the last, it made him frown.

“So I’m told.” He replied shortly drawing parallels between Scrimgeour and Lockheart. “However, seeing as I’m a busy man, and I’m sure you have other places to be…I’ll make this easy for us all. I will not align myself with either of your ‘sides’ as I am a Healer first and foremost.”

“You’re a sympathizer?” 

Harry took a moment to enjoy the horrified looks of the group, although Dumbledore hadn’t stopped smiling since he sent off the blast, before addressing the youth playing auror.

“No. I’d never choose Voldemort.” Harry replied heatedly as just the mere thought of it made his stomach roll dangerously. “But I’m a Healer and I have an oath to treat those who require it no matter if they work for the Order, the Ministry or even Voldemort. I am bound to heal any I can.”

It had been a difficult thing to make an oath over being so close to the end of the war, but his mentors at St Mungos wouldn’t budge. They had said that it wasn’t his duty to decide who should live or die but to treat every human as patients and look after their best interests; a difficult thing to do during wartime.

Harry gave them a minute to protest, cough and splutter before he took control of the situation.

“So here’s what’s going to happen…both the Ministry and the Order want me to treat people…fine. I obviously have no issue with that but I _will_ be doing it here at Hogwarts. Also, in order to start rebuilding the Healers I will take four apprentices – two from each group. I will train them and in cases of emergencies either group can call for us.”

“What about those in our Hospital Wing?” Scrimgeour demanded through gritted teeth.

“As I said I will still treat them but my home, and those of my apprentices, will be Hogwarts. I don't want to be rude but you're the ones that need me not the other way around. I'm happy to help but I won't live my life by anyone else's orders.”

“Fine.” Scrimgeour growled. “But I suggest you _both_ remember that you are a British citizens and fall under my authority. If you insist on stonewalling me or disobeying my orders you won’t like the consequences.”

“Rufus!” Amelia admonished with little effect as the Minister had his eyes trained like a beacon on Albus.

“Watch yourself, Dumbledore!” He said before turning to Harry. “I’ll be in touch and if you’re as smart as you think you are...you should be careful who you choose to befriend.”

Harry watched the Ministry group stomp away down the corridor and sighed with relief. 

\--

The rest of the day went by rather calmly after the Ministry had left. Harry had transferred his four new patients to the Hospital Wing and had spent the rest of the day cooped up inside brewing potions. It was hardly his favourite aspect of Healing but he needed his own supply of potions and none of his horde of patients could be treated properly without some kind of tonic.

It had just reached ten o’clock when Dobby had brought up a late dinner for Harry, as he had been in the middle of a delicate part of the Skele-grow potion and couldn’t stop and head down to the Great Hall, when there was a knock on the door.

Harry groaned pitifully as he got up from the mouth-watering steak that Dobby had brought him and made his way over to the Hospital Wing doors. Dumbledore had promised that he would be left alone for the day to work but it looked like his luck had run out.

He stretched and threw open the doors only to freeze and gape at the person on the other side – Draco Malfoy.

He was just as Harry remembered from his soft blonde hair, mysterious grey eyes and pointed features that had captured his attention for years. Although it seemed that this Draco regularly worked out as he was more muscular and his shoulders were slightly wider than he was used to seeing on his ex-rival.

“I’m Draco Malfoy.” He smirked looking Harry up and down appreciatively. “I’ve been assigned to you by Dumbledore as your new protector.”

‘Shit.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Any ideas who are going to be the four apprentices? What did you think of Draco's first introduction in the fic?


	5. Discoveries & Unwanted Apprentices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets to know the new Draco Malfoy a bit more as he makes unsettling discoveries about this new world. However, despite there being no new cases for Harry to work on, things in the Hospital Wing weren't any less dramatic as the Ministry sends over to applicants for Healer training.

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy. The last time Harry had seen the blonde was during the Deatheater trials after the war. He’d given testimony on Malfoy’s behalf but the man he defended wasn’t the same one he knew from their Hogwarts days, the chained wizard in the middle of the Wizengamot chamber was broken by his month long stint in Azkaban; his silvery blonde hair had been dirty and lifeless as were his once prideful eyes. It had been a close call but the Wizengamot had eventually pardoned Malfoy for his position in the war. 

However, this blonde, despite wearing the same face as his ex-rival, was very different from any version of Malfoy he was used to. He was wearing thick black battle robes that clung tightly to his more muscular body, he held himself confidently with his wide shoulders back and an easy grin on his face. Judging from the fact Harry couldn’t remember Malfoy’s cheekbones ever being so pronounced he doubted he’d ever seen his once rival truly smile, it seemed to transform his face and make it lighter and less pointy somehow.

It was clear that this Malfoy was just as wealthy though as his robes were clearly expertly crafted to give him more movement around his legs and arms for duelling whilst still protecting his vital organs. It took him a moment to realise that he’d just been staring at the now smirking blonde for too long, but Harry quickly shook himself out of it and plastered a smile on his face pretending he couldn’t feel his face grow warm.

“Nice to meet you.” Harry said stepping to the side and letting Malfoy into the Hospital Wing. “Although, I’m not sure what you mean exactly when you say Dumbledore’s made you my protector.”

Malfoy strolled into the room as his eyes darted around taking in every inch of the Hospital Wing. Considering the state of this world Harry wasn’t too surprised by his response as he’d seen such paranoid behaviour during the war in his own world. What he was having trouble with however was the wizard himself. 

The Draco Malfoy he knew was a bit stuck-up and had a lithe seeker’s build but this man already seemed more genuine without having to say very much and had the muscle composition of a sportsman. It was like he was meeting a less-ferrety version of the Draco Malfoy he once knew.

“You know…I wasn’t sure if I should believe the rumors but they seem to be accurate for once.”

Harry frowned at the idea that, just like in his world, he was once again in the middle of gossip. “What rumors?” He blurted out as his hands naturally went to his hips.

He knew that the blonde had changed the subject from Dumbledore’s manoeuvring but rumors and the like were still a bit of a sore spot for Harry. Since his first year he’d been stuck in the centre of them, inside and outside of Hogwarts, and rarely were they positive; some even went as far to drag down those he held close.

Malfoy just carried on smirking as he turned to properly face Harry who’d remained frozen by the door. “It’s all over the Order that we’ve gotten a cute little Healer. Naturally many of us don’t believe it and think of it as gossip…yet here you stand.”

Harry felt his blush flare up under Malfoy’s gaze and mentally slapped himself in retaliation. It was clear from his silky voice that the blonde was flirting with him but to get such a response from him wasn’t right. Without trying very hard Malfoy had managed to somehow make him blush with a couple of words. Harry mentally put it down to the light, his tiredness and the impressive contrast between Malfoy’s impressive robes and his light blonde hair.

“You know…it’s considered polite to introduce yourself properly when you first meet someone.” Malfoy drawled without his pleased smile slipping once. “You know my name but I don’t know yours. Hardly seems fair does it?”

Harry knew that Malfoy was just playing with him and he was certain that either those rumors or Dumbledore’s instructions to the blonde would’ve included his name. However, he played along.

“I’m Harry Peverell.” He said sticking out his hand. 

The second his fake name slipped from his lips Harry quickly noted that Malfoy’s entire body briefly tensed but it had melted away before he could’ve questioned the blonde. There was no denying it though as he was sure something about his name had set Malfoy on edge. A fact that shouldn’t be possible as there was zero chance that this Draco Malfoy could know his identity was fake.

Yet, after a moment Harry felt a velvety hand grasping his and giving a quick shake before it retreated.

“Nice to meet you.” Malfoy parroted as his silvery eyes locked with Harry’s own emerald ones. 

Harry could feel something in his chest shift slightly as he watched those same silvery pools soften under his. There was something about this Malfoy that puzzled Harry, put him slightly off his game but he’d figure it out – he always did.

\--

The next day Harry woke up at four in the morning, grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, to take in the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting on the bed opposite him playing absentmindedly with a curved dagger. Despite his sleepy and groggy state Harry watched entranced as the silver weapon danced around Malfoy’s fingers with such fluidity he was half certain it was made of rubber.

“Morning, little Healer.” Malfoy said warmly as his eyes never left the dagger that suddenly seemed to move faster between the wizard’s agile fingers. “Surprised you’re up so early.”

Harry merely grunted in reply as he carefully moved himself into a seated position on the bed. To be honest he was a little surprised he was up so early himself as he’d never been a morning person, he always took every opportunity to sleep in he could. 

“Can I ask a question?” Malfoy asked just as Harry tried lazily rubbing some sleep from his eyes.

“I guess.” Harry replied lowering his hands to see that the dagger had vanished from sight and he had suddenly become the centre of Malfoy’s focus.

“Why are you sleeping in the Hospital Wing instead of the Healer’s quarters?” Malfoy asked curiously. “I mean, surely you don’t prefer sleeping out here with the sick and injured.”

“They’re better company than most.” He replied huffily moving off the bed and not seeing the smirk curling onto the blonde’s face as he watched Harry move away. 

It was a good question but Harry didn’t particularly feel like answering it. His attitude in the mornings was one of the reasons Ron or Hermione never bothered him early. Actually he had converted the Healer’s quarters into a small ward for contagious diseases. It was a snug fit, made possible thanks to Dobby’s efforts, but he had managed to place all the patients with Dragon Pox, Vanishing Sickness and Scrofungulus inside; the last thing he wanted was for them to contaminate others in the Hospital Wing.

Ignoring Malfoy Harry went to the far end of the Hospital Wing, near the front doors, and gazed at his makeshift potions lab. Before he went to bed last night he’d setup the four cauldrons that Dobby had found for him and had his potions kit ready to go. Now that he had managed to heal everyone with basic injuries or easy to banish maladies he needed to work on the harder cases; not to mention he would need his own potions supply as he wouldn’t trust Lockhart to brew a thing.

Knowing that he would have to have breakfast if he would be spending the day brewing, Harry called for Dobby and requested breakfast for him and Malfoy. Realising he had a little bit of time to wait Harry cast a quick cleaning charm over himself, opting to have a shower later, and got to work on a quick and easy potion.

He went to the bench and cast a quick enlargement charm at the first pewter cauldron and started to get out all the ingredients he would need for a simple Wiggenweld Potion. He’d just finished setting up for his first potion of the day when he noticed Malfoy walking up and standing on the other side of the cauldron.

“Brewing so early, Harry?” He asked staring at the ingredients with great interest. “What are you making? A Blood Evaporating Concoction or maybe a one of the eye dissolvers – Jugson’s Eye Gouger perhaps?”

Harry glanced up displeased at Malfoy. “It’s Peverell to you, Malfoy, and now that you mention it my name isn’t _lil Healer,_ either.”

Rather than apologise or even agree with his statement, Malfoy just returned to his default smirk as though something he’d said was amusing. “If you say so…”

Biting his tongue Harry tried to put it aside as it honestly didn’t matter that much, it was just a name, and honestly he was more Harry than Peverell, but there was just something about this guy. 

“And while I don’t know, or want to know, what a Blood Evaporating Concoction is used for, I’m making a few potions today. I’m starting with a Wiggenweld Potion then I’ll move onto a large batch of Skele-grow and finish with the Gorsemoor Potion.”

Harry wasn’t surprised that Malfoy appeared interested in potions as he’d been rather adapt in them back in his world but the look on his face now was something between confusion and shock. Feeling a familiar situation to the one he shared with Dumbledore and Moody when he first arrived at Hogwarts, Harry decided to elaborate.

“The Skele-grow Potion can regrow bones in a patient and the Gorsemoor Potion is used to cure Dragon Pox.”

The Gorsemoor Potion was named after the first witch who attempted to cure the disease back in the 1100s - Gunhilda de Gorsemoor. She hadn’t managed to cure the disease completely but she saved many lives with her work and led future witches and wizards to a cure in later years. Harry wasn’t sure what happened to her in this world but was happy that her name would continue on regardless.

“You can cure Dragon Pox?”

Harry sighed at the disbelief in Malfoy’s tone but couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at the unhinged jaw of the previously smirking wizard. “Not everything can be cured by magic, Malfoy. Some things are possible, as the theory doesn’t breach the laws of magic, but haven’t been invented yet. Then there are illnesses that can even be created to, or naturally, fight against healing magic like a few dark curses. However, in saying that there is a lot that magic can heal and Dragon Pox is one of them.”

Wanting to at least start the Wiggenweld Potion before breakfast arrived, Harry left the still gawping wizard to it and started to brew.

\--

Lucius Malfoy

Lucius stared up at Lestrange Tower and felt his stomach clench nervously at the twisting black stone manor before him. Originally, the tower was Lestrange Manor and was dull as chalk, but over time its owner, Rabastian Lestrange, conducted experiments for the Dark Lord that had caused the stone to bulge, twist and slope in odd areas from the decades of chaotic magic being conducted in its walls; before long the once plain single storey manor looked more like a half melted tower. 

Normally Lucius enjoyed seeing the effects of such powerful dark magic being adapted to meet their goals, especially in person as the tower beheld a foul aura that energized him and left many acolytes shaking in fear, but now it was him who felt fear for what he was about to do.

A few days ago the Dark Lord had tasked him with finding out everything he could about the Order’s newest member - Harry Peverell. When he had first seen the brat in the middle of the Diagon Alley skirmish he had been so certain that it was James Potter, but it hadn’t been, instead he had let a valuable resource slip away.

He had been punished severely for it by the Dark Lord himself before being tasked to find out everything he could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much and what he had managed to discover wasn’t going to please the Dark Lord. They had only managed to find out the man’s full name because of a leak in the Ministry.

The storm clouds that permanently surrounded the research tower lit up as lightning and thunder echoed overhead causing him to flinch at the sheer power. Ignoring the ominous signs around him Lucius reminded himself he was a high ranking Death Eater and strode confidently into the tower.

Knowing exactly where the Dark Lord would be he pushed open the tower’s double doors and strode inside. The inside of the tower was dark and damp as usual with the air crackling with saturated magic. Lucius paused for a moment and let the magic in the air fill him up, like inhaling oxygen for his lungs, he could feel something race through his veins as he took in some of the ambient magic. After a moment he opened his eyes and started moving again to his meeting feeling more energized and courageous then before. While Lucius may be a powerful man he was also smart enough to realise that he would need all the courage he could get, as he had no doubt that this meeting would involve numerous curses leaving him with now with nothing but hope that he would walk out in one piece.

Walking through the bland stone entrance hall, that as a child he could remember being filled with portraits of the Lestrange family, Lucius buried his feelings behind a Slytherin mask and walked up to the first door on the left hand side. Knowing that the Dark Lord wouldn’t want to be kept waiting Lucius pushed open the door and walked inside. 

The throne room was one of the largest chambers in Lestrange Tower with a high backed silver throne sitting at the back of the room on a wooden podium and Slytherin banners covering the stone walls. Seeing that the Dark Lord was sitting patiently upon his emerald encrusted throne Lucius quickly walked up and kneeled before the podium with his head bowed low.

Lucius could practically hear his heart beat rapidly in his chest as he waited for the Dark Lord to make the first move. He had been witness to many Death Eaters over the years to be in his exact position, kneeling at the Dark Lord’s feet, only to be blasted away for failure.

Finally he heard the Dark Lord get up and move away from his throne. Lucius held his breath and forced himself to remain still as he braced himself for what was to come.

“Lucius, I was expecting you yesterday.”

Hearing the anger in between his words and calm tone Lucius couldn’t help but flinch knowing that it already wasn’t going well.

“I’m sorry, M-My Lord, but I have come with news.”

“Indeed. And what do you have to tell me?”

“My Lord, the unknown at the skirmish goes by the name Harry Peverell and our sources have confirmed that he is passing himself off as a Healer.”

“Peverell you say…and he claims to be a Healer? I assume that he is working with Dumbledore.”

Lucius nodded to the floor in confirmation. “Yes, Milord, according to our source in the Ministry he has been tested extensively by Dumbledore and has passed every test. They believe that his intentions are legitimate as well as his skills. He has been working in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts since the skirmish and has agreed to train a selection of staff from the Order and the Ministry as Healers.”

“What does Karkaroff have to say?”

Hearing the inevitable question Lucius swore mentally in his head and prayed to Merlin and Morgana that he wouldn’t die. Igor Karkaroff was the most recent spy to attempt to infiltrate the Order’s ranks and had been working within the Order’s largest safe house in Ireland for nearly a week.

“Karkaroff was discovered and killed by Moody. The only information he was able to give us regarding StoneHaven was that it housed thirty mudbloods, their families and was protected by the blood traitors Weasley.”

The air grew thin at his response and within seconds his lungs cried out for oxygen as it was quickly sucked out of the room.

“Another spy lost, Lucius? How many is that now?”

Lucius’ mouth grew drier than parchment as he feared for his life. It was common knowledge within their ranks, and a sore spot for their Lord, that every spy they sent into the Order was discovered within twenty four hours. Karkaroff had been the best so far at five days but during that time hadn’t supplied _any_ real information.

“Forty-one, milord.” 

The Dark Lord slowly made his way down the podium until he was standing right in front of Lucius. Slowly like a snake preparing to strike he reached down, grasped Lucius by the neck and yanked him into the air. 

“You will tell me _everything!”_

\--

Harry Potter

After being granted his own guardian, in the form of a blonde Slytherin, the next week went by quickly for Harry as he spent the time healing and settling into life at Hogwarts. Harry spent most of his time though trying to familiarize himself with this new world, brewing potions and re-organising the Hospital Wing. Being in a new world had meant to be an escape from the past, a way to achieve some peace and happiness, but being thrown into a new war and completely in the dark wasn’t what he had in mind. Yet, like always he’d adapt.

He spent nearly every night in the library researching this world after catering to his patients during the day. At first he wasn’t sure what to start researching but eventually settled for history. A lot of it was rather dull and boring, as he tended to find the subject in general, but he had come across an interesting book in the History section that certainly put a few things into perspective.

It was what he discovered that was both enlightening and troubling in equal measure. In _Pontiff’s Guide to the History of Magical Herbology,_ he learnt that the last source of Dittany had been destroyed in 1433 due to a suspicious fire in Bristol, Wiggentree was a highly regulated endangered species of flora now only found in France and Moly had been completely wiped out due to a magical fungus in 1398. Arguably three of the most useful and important herbs for healing and potions had been destroyed in this world. It was no wonder their healing was so archaic and spotty with no Healers and no herbs to treat illness – they didn’t stand a chance.

Then there was the issue with the Hospital Wing itself. It was fine for its original purpose of catering to the students and staff but it was too small and ill-equipped to be a proper substitute for a Hospital. For if he was going to be treating participants from the war, teaching apprentices and even dealing with diseases like Dragon Pox, he needed something bigger.

Unfortunately, all of the rooms around the Hospital Wing were being used and were highly warded so confiscating nearby quarters wasn’t going to work. It was simply luck that he had managed to free up considerable amount of room by healing his patients and having nobody new come through his doors. He wouldn’t give up however and spent any free time exploring Hogwarts trying to find worthwhile locations.

After brewing the Skele-grow Potion and administering it to the required patients Harry had lost a third of his patients in one swoop. Moody’s daughter was one of them who, after three days of treatment, thanked Harry profusely and took off out of the Hospital Wing with a promise to take Harry’s prescribed Wiggenweld potions for another week. The patients suffering from Dragon Pox also recovered well thanks to the Gorsemoor Potion, although Harry wouldn’t let them leave for a while until all their symptoms had disappeared. 

Through it all Malfoy hovered around him like a shadow, sometimes invisible despite Harry feeling his presence nearby, and sometimes practically attached to his hip; during the day he stood vigilant by his side like a statue as though expecting his patients to leap into action and kill him, but when he went to the library to research he vanished like smoke. Harry had originally thought that the notion of a bodyguard was insulting, and with someone like Malfoy hanging around he would quickly become annoyed at the blonde. Yet, it never happened.

The more time he spent with Malfoy the more he grew comfortable in his presence; he didn’t badger him at inopportune moments but seemed interested when Harry was brewing, he didn’t sneer or belittle him but always had a smirk or smile for him. It was nice. Yet, most importantly he treated Harry not as a resource to be traded as the only Healer in Britain, nor as some saviour like the Boy-Who-Lived but rather as a person. Although he wasn’t sure what to feel about the blonde’s wandering eyes.

All in all the week passed rather peacefully at Hogwarts with no new cases, no Ministry, no emotionally jarring doubles but just research and healing. However, Harry’s peace wasn’t to last as bright and early on Friday morning, just as Harry was starting his rounds, the Hospital Wing’s fireplace roared to life. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to continue Harry quickly finished up with his current patient before walking over to the fireplace with the blonde shadow by his side as he waited for his Ministry guest.

It had been an agreement between Dumbledore and Scrimgeour, an agreement that had been conducted without Harry present, that the Ministry should have twenty four hour access to Harry in case of emergencies. Harry knew that if Dobby hadn’t overheard the two schemers and reported straight back to him he would still be in the dark.

“No use in pouting, Harry.” Malfoy said from Harry’s right shoulder.

“I’m not pouting...” Not needing to look at the blonde to know that he was probably smirking at him, Harry folded his arms across his chest. “…and I thought I told you to call me Peverell or Healer Peverell.”

“You did.” Malfoy conceded causing Harry to look up at him. “But Healer Peverell somehow lacks a personal touch…don’t you think? If it would make you feel better you can call me Draco.”

In that moment staring up at Malfoy’s bright silver eyes Harry could only think about one thing and it wasn’t his own name. 

“Okay there, Harry?” 

“Fine.” Harry snapped. Seeing the playful glint in Malfoy’s eyes and the teasing quirk of his lips Harry retched his eyes away and stared at the fireplace. He wasn’t sure what it was but the flirty Malfoy was really off putting to Harry. His mind kept screaming at him that it was a ploy, that Malfoy just wanted something from him and that he wasn’t trustworthy. But there was something about the warmth in the man’s eyes that told his heart something different.

Pushing away the confusing thoughts Harry loudly cleared his throat and quickly thought of a topic change. “What’s taking so long with the fireplace?”

From his personal experience and knowledge of Floo Powder it was practically instant travel only slightly longer than apparition and portkey transport. However, the emerald flames dancing merrily in his fireplace had been there a while now.

“Probably the security checks.” Malfoy suggested thankfully accepting the change of topic. “Anytime someone uses the Floo connection between Hogwarts or the Ministry from a location deemed unsafe they perform checks on the connection and then on the person travelling. It takes time.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “And Hogwarts is considered an unsafe location?”

“With Dumbledore as Headmaster and Scrimgeour as Minister – yes.” Malfoy chuckled. “Most of us in the Order wonder who’ll snap first and kill the other. My money is Dumbledore.”

Harry sighed hearing the humor in Malfoy’s admission. He had seen the tension between the two of them last week after he’d started treating Neville, he’d have to be blind not to, but Malfoy’s words put their relationship into perspective. It wasn’t just a bad day between the two but a bad tension that was apparently well known. 

Finally the green flames burst into life expelling the first figure who was a lanky elderly wizard with sunken features in lime green robes. He only had a moment to move away before the flames rose again and a heavyset woman in bright fluorescent pink joined him beaming psychotically around the Hospital Wing. Seeing who’d just entered the Hospital Wing Harry could only sigh in despair and wonder why fate hated him.

The heavy-set witch strode forward and gave Harry a grin. “Good morning, Mr Peverell. I’m Head Healer Dolores Jane Umbridge of the Ministry of Magic and this is my assistant Healer Cooper.”

Rather than respond, or judging from her expectant expression perhaps bow at her feet, Harry just looked blankly back at the witch. Other than her slightly more rotund frame she was exactly as Harry remembered right down to her taste for sickly pink clothing. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting when he suggested apprentices being assigned to him but fate delivering him Umbridge seemed mean spirited.

“Perhaps you can stop staring at Harry and get to your reason for being here…” Malfoy pipped up from his shoulder.

Harry repressed a shiver at hearing his name come from Malfoy of all people. He had been regularly trying to get Malfoy to call him anything but Harry since their first meeting but it was a complete waste of time. Malfoy had been insistent in calling him Harry instead of Peverell despite Harry’s demands. He’d just smirk at him or shrug dismissively as though Harry’s concerns were simply funny or not worth his time. Now, as evident from their earlier discussions and not wanting to argue in front of Umbridge, Harry pushed the issue aside.

Umbridge’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Malfoy’s tone but otherwise ignored him as she kept staring at Harry. “Healer Peverell, we are here for our mandated training by order of Minister Scrimgeour.”

Her pompous and awe-struck tone when mentioning the Minister’s name made Harry slightly ill as his mind started to quickly whir into action. He only had a moment to quickly conjure up a reason why he didn’t have to teach Umbridge anything, or even worse having to endure her for long periods for months on end. It took him until Umbridge cocked an impatient eyebrow before he was suddenly struck with his escape.

“Very well.” He said offering both apparent Healers a smile and holding out his hand. “I assume you’ve brought copies of your N.E.W.T examinations results. My training plan is very extensive and only those of sufficient skill will be able to keep up. Just as my teachers had high standards, so too will I have expectations of my students.”

Harry took a moment to savour the pinched look on Umbridge’s face as Cooper returned his smile with a more genuine one that made him look even gaunter. 

“Of course, Healer Peverell.”

Harry was a bit surprised that they’d thought ahead enough to bring their results with them, as he’d not previously asked for them, but as it played into his plan he wouldn’t say anything. Taking each of their results from the corresponding Healer, Harry took a moment to review their marks. It was a fact that in his world Healers were required to have excellent marks at N.E.W.T level for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and Herbology as a minimum. It will now be those requirements that may save him from Umbridge.

Tristen N Cooper

O.W.L Examination Results  
  
---  
  
Potions

| 

Outstanding  
  
Transfiguration

| 

Outstanding  
  
Charms

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
Defence Against the Dark Arts

| 

Outstanding  
  
Herbology

| 

Acceptable  
  
History

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
Care of Magical Creatures

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
Arithmancy

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
|   
  
N.E.W.T Examination Results  
  
Potions

| 

Acceptable  
  
Transfiguration

| 

Outstanding  
  
Defence Against the Dark Arts

| 

Outstanding  
  
Care of Magical Creatures

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
Tristen’s marks weren’t horrible and had clearly achieved some good marks but Harry was genuinely confused how he could be called a Healer. The man hadn’t taken Charms or Herbology at all in his N.E.W.T years and had a weak mark for Potions. No. The man, despite his nice demeanour, was no healer.

Moving onto Umbridge Harry couldn’t help but smirk as he looked over her marks.

Delores J Umbridge

O.W.L Examination Results  
  
---  
  
Potions

| 

Outstanding  
  
Transfiguration

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
Charms

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
Defence Against the Dark Arts

| 

Acceptable  
  
Herbology

| 

Acceptable  
  
History

| 

Acceptable  
  
Divination

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
Ancient Runes

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
|   
  
N.E.W.T Examination Results  
  
Potions

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
Charms

| 

Acceptable  
  
Defence Against the Dark Arts

| 

Poor  
  
Herbology

| 

Poor  
  
Divination

| 

Exceeds Expectations  
  
To call herself Head Healer was hilarious on one hand and on the other completely terrifying for her patients. Her Charms mark wasn’t great, she hadn’t even taken N.E.W.T Transfiguration and she’d failed Herbology and Defence. 

“I’m sorry but neither of you meet the requirements for the position of my apprentice.” Harry said smoothing over his glee-ridden face in the hopes it looked at least semi-professional. 

Cooper only nodded his acceptance and took his marks back from Harry as Umbridge started turning bright red.

Seeing her marks made a lot of sense to Harry as the Umbridge he knew wasn’t smart or kind enough to be a Healer but had the willpower and cunning to schmooze her way into high ranking positions. In his world she was the Undersecretary for the Ministry of Magic and had power in the Wizengamot and the Ministry itself behind her. However, in a world where Healers are prized, she made herself Head Healer regardless of her achievements or ability. 

“What do you mean I don’t meet the requirements?” She asked tightly drawing herself up. “If a young upstart like yourself can trick the Minister into being classified as a Healer than I should be deemed _more_ than satisfactory. I have been Head Healer of the Ministry Ward for seven years now.”

Harry frowned unsure what she meant by tricked as the Minister hadn’t asked for any proof or qualifications when he’d met the man. In fact they’d only spoken for a few moments before he stormed out like a child. 

“She’s just sour, Harry.” Malfoy explained seeing his confusion and cutting through the tension. “A few days ago Minister Scrimgeour secretly demoted every ‘Healer’ in the Ministry to the rank of Mediwitch, Mediwizard or just general staff.”

“How do you know that, _Death Eater!”_ She sneered darkly as her companion quickly took the Floo back to the Ministry causing an emerald light from the fireplace to light up behind her and briefly make her look like a crazy supervillain. “I knew that there were Order spies within the Ministry.”

He had been tempted to let Malfoy deal with the witch but seeing the way Malfoy had tensed at being called a Death Eater made him change his mind. 

“I would appreciate it, Umbridge, if you would return to the Ministry. You have been rejected from the post of Apprentice Healer and your business within Hogwarts is finished. If you feel unable to do so I’m sure my guard will be happy to throw you out.” Harry said with a smile as Malfoy gave the witch a strained smile as he withdrew a wand from his robe pocket.

She gave a few quick breathes as she looked between the two of them as fury steadily built up behind her eyes. “This isn’t over.”

With that she stormed over to the fireplace and vanished in swirl of emerald flames.

Once they were alone, Harry turned to Malfoy seeing that he was still tense and staring darkly at the fireplace. At first he hadn’t seen anything of the Malfoy he’d once known but now the angry silver eyes and edgy expression was very familiar.

“Fine.” He muttered before pointing his wand at his head and vanishing from sight.

Harry sighed as he stared at the place Malfoy had just been. He thought Malfoy had been rather enjoying the interchange, especially when he revealed the demotions at the Ministry, but it took one word for it to change.

“Stupid pink cow.” He muttered before moving over to his neglected patients. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like me to continue this story please leave a comment below. Hope you liked it :)


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